UNCLE  CARL 


SUREV 


THE  LIBRARY, 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


GIFT  OF 

Mrs.  Ben  B.  Lindsey 


r 


UNCLE  CARL 


BY 


SUREV 


New  York  and  Washington 

THE  NEALE  PUBLISHING  COMPANY 

1908 


Copyright,  1908,  by 
The  Neale  Publishing  Company. 


DEDICATION 

To  all  to  whom  personal  honor,  in  small  as  well 
as  in  great  things;  to  whom  sincerity  and  truth  are 
of  the  first  'value,  ranking  far  ahead  of  the  world's 
applause,  this  history  is  dedicated  by 

THE  AUTHOR. 


PREFACE 

In  presenting  to  you  the  character  of  Carl  Engle- 
wood  it  is  not  our  purpose  to  hold  him  up  as  the  ideal 
of  a  perfect  man  by  any  means ;  but  he  was  one  who 
through  many  trying  years  struggled  earnestly  and 
faithfully  to  so  order  his  life  that  he  could  honestly 
feel  that  he  would  leave  the  world  better  because  of 
his  part  in  it.  He  was  not  different  from  other  men 
in  any  marked  degree,  save  in  that  he,  perhaps,  had 
more  of  the  courage  of  conviction  than  is  shown  by 
the  average  man,  in  little  as  well  as  in  great  things. 
"Sincerity"  was  his  watchword;  "Love"  was  his  mo- 
tive; and  though  many  will  disagree  with  his  con- 
clusions, and  perhaps  regret  that  these  sterling  quali- 
ties were  so  strongly  manifested  by  one  over  whom 
the  "church"  exercised  so  little  control,  we  yet  hope 
and  believe  that  his  life-influence  was  not  in  vain, 
if  because  of  it  tolerance  and  good  will  toward  all 
men  shall  be  increased;  if  the  reader  shall  feel  a 
more  emphatic  respect  for  an  honest  man  no  matter 
what  his  creed. 

We  make  no  apology  for  beginning  our  effort  with 
so  sad  a  chapter.  It  was  written  by  Carl  Englewood 
himself,  for  a  purpose  that  is  fully  explained  in  a 
letter  which  accompanied  it,  and  which  we  have 
placed  in  Chapter  XXVIII.  It  was  this  manuscript 
that  appealed  most  strongly  to  us,  and  was  the  incen- 
tive to  write  "Uncle  Carl's"  history  at  length. 

Most  of  the  important  incidents  recorded  herein 
were  matters  of  personal  knowledge  to  us;  and  es- 
pecially conversant  were  we  with  the  earlier  life  and 
mental  struggles  of  our  friend. 

SUREV. 


UNCLE  CARL 


CHAPTER  I 

"Irene  calls  for  you,  Carl.     Will  you  come  now? 

Mrs.  Denton's  voice  roused  Carl  Englewood  from 
his  abstraction.  Poor  fellow !  For  hours  he  had 
paced  up  and  down  the  long  hallway;  dreading  the 
summons,  yet  longing  to  be  with  the  one  who,  lying 
on  her  last  sick-bed,  had  been  to  him  the  sweetest 
dream  of  life.  In  the  early  morning  she  had  fallen 
into  a  slumber,  and  her  mother — feeling  that  he 
should  husband  his  strength  for  the  great  trial,  now 
so  near — had  insisted  that  he  should  lie  down  in  his 
room;  promising  to  call  him  when  Irene  awakened. 
For  two  days  he  had  not  slept,  nor  scarcely  tasted 
food.  For  two  days  he  had  watched  the  flame  of 
life  as  it  slowly  waned,  and  shuddered  with  dread  as 
he  thought  that  each  moment  brought  him  nearer 
to  that  great  darkness  of  the  "valley  of  shadows." 

He  had  gone  to  his  room,  but  not  to  "rest."  Rest! 
While  her  dear  life  was  ebbing  away?  He,  rest? 
As  well  ask  the  mother  to  rest  who  sees  her  babe  in 
an  eagle's  talons  borne  away  to  the  mountain  crag. 
As  well  try  to  soothe  the  storm-tossed  waves  of  the 
sea,  or  quiet  the  thunders  of  the  hurricane,  as  for 
him  to  seek  rest.  The  four  walls  of  his  room  seemed 
to  press  him;  the  air  to  stifle  him.  Throwing  up 
the  window  he  leaned  far  out  and  looked  with  dim 
eyes  at  the  dismal  dawn.  The  sky  was  overcast  with 
clouds  and  a  drizzling  rain  falling.  Through  the 
morning  mists  he  saw  a  few  laborers  splashing  on  to 
their  day's  work,  and  he  thought  with  envy  that  they 
had  their  homes  and  their  dear  ones  to  labor  for; 
and  that  at  night  when  they  returned  they  would  find 


12  UNCLE  CARL 

their  little  circles  complete,  and  would  sit  with  them 
gathered  around,  a,nd  would  talk  over  the  day's  joys 
and  sorrows,  and  give  and  receive  sympathy,  and 
plan  for  the  future.  Aye,  they  could  rest.  But, 
he  I  To  think  what  the  night  would  bring  to  him ! 
He,  rest! 

He  turned  from  the  window,  his  hair  dripping 
with  moisture,  and  seeking  the  hall  had  begun  his 
walk,  up  and  down;  his  slow  footsteps  beating  time 
to  his  gloomy  thoughts  until  they  seemed  to  resolve 
themselves  into  one  rhythmic  repetition — "I — rene 
—must — die;  I — rene — must — die";  up  and  down; 
up  and  down.  Oh!  the  agony  of  it.  Oh!  the  pity. 
No  more  sweetness  in  life  for  him !  What  had  the 
future  now  that  he  cared  for!  "I — rene — must — 
die."  Much  could  be  done  with  her  by  his  side. 
Doubtless  he  would  do  much  yet,  in  time,  but  the 
joy  of  it  would  be  gone.  For  him  there  could  be  no 
more  brightness.  Her  dear  lips  would  never  smile 
a  welcome  home  for  him;  her  eyes  never  light  up 
with  pride  at  his  successes;  she  would  never  soothe 
with  her  dear  sympathy  the  hours  of  darkness  and 
sorrow.  And  so,  on  and  on,  his  thoughts  wandered ; 
and  ever  his  feet  seemed  to  tread  the  weary  words 
of  agony,  until,  late  in  the  afternoon,  her  mother 
called  him  to  her  with  the  words — "Irene  calls  for 
you,  Carl.  Will  you  come  now?" 

With  an  effort  he  recalled  his  wandering  senses, 
and  exerting  his  strong  will  he  calmed  his  features, 
and  with  a  stifled  moan  entered  the  chamber  which 
contained  his  dear  treasure;  not  again  to  leave  it 
until  the  light  should  have  gone  out  of  her  eyes, 
leaving  him  in  that  utter  darkness  which  only  those 
intense  natures,  whose  lives  are  earnest  in  all  things, 
can  feel. 


UNCLE  CARL  13 

The  room  where  she  lay  was  a  fit  nest  for  the 
pure  character  of  its  mistress.  All  the  surroundings 
spoke  of  innocence,  and  beauty,  and  love.  Not  the 
luxuries  of  the  rich,  but,  rather,  the  comforts  of  the 
well-to-do  were  there.  But  they  all  bore  the  marks  of 
a  dainty  touch  and  of  a  tasteful  selection,  which  only 
a  woman  can  give.  A  room  of  comfortable  size, 
well  lighted  by  three  large  windows;  a  few  pictures 
on  the  walls;  a  shelf  covered  with  the  little  knick- 
knacks  and  keepsakes  of  girlhood  days;  a  bookcase 
in  one  corner  filled  with  well-worn  books;  a  few  easy 
chairs;  a  table  and  work-basket;  and,  in  an  alcove, 
partially  concealed  by  dainty  lace  curtains,  the  bed — 
completed  the  inventory  of  its  furnishings. 

The  doctor  and  Irene's  father  and  mother  were 
the  only  ones  in  the  room  with  her  as  Carl  entered 
and  seated  himself  near  the  head  of  the  bed.  The 
patient  seemed  to  have  fallen  asleep  again;  and  as 
he  watched  her  quiet  breathing  and  noted  the  grow- 
ing shadows  which  betokened  the  nearer  and  nearer 
approach  of  the  "Grim  Spectre,"  he  realized  as  he 
had  not  before  the  great  sorrow  awaiting  him.  Pres- 
ently Irene  opened  her  eyes;  eyes  in  whose  depths 
one  could  almost  see  the  heaven  soon  to  be  hers,  and 
her  whole  soul  seemed  to  speak  to  the  anxious  lover 
as  he  bent  over  her  and  softly  caressed  the  delicate 
hand  held  out  to  him.  "Oh,  Carl,"  she  said,  "don't 
look  so  sober!  Don't  you  think  that  you  ought  to- 
be  just  a  wee  little  bit  ashamed  of  yourself  to  be  so 
naughty  when  I  want  you  to  look  pleasant?"  And 
with  a  dainty  touch  she  tried  to  draw  the  corners 
of  his  mouth  into  the  semblance  of  a  smile. 

"There!"  she  cried,  as  he  forced  a  cheery  look; 
"now  you  are  nice  again.  Now,  Carlie  boy,  I  want 


14  UNCLE  CARL 

you  to  look  just  like  that  when — when — I  look  down 
at  you — from — our  star." 

"Mother,  dear,"  she  said  after  a  pause,  "I  wish 
that  I  could  be  alone  with  my  big  boy  just  a  little 
while;  he  needs  an  awful  lecture,  and  I  want  to 
talk  to  him  just  a  wee  bit." 

As  Mrs.  Denton,  motioning  to  her  husband  and 
the  doctor,  was  about  to  pass  out  of  the  room  Irene 
called  to  her  again,  "Kiss  me,  mother,  dear,"  she  said 
"and  don't  you  be  jealous  of  my  big  boy,  because 
your  little  girl  loves  you.  Oh,  how  she  loves  you ! 
But  then,  she  loves  him  too;  and,  oh,  my!  he  does 
need  such  a  talking  to,"  and  with  a  wan  smile  the 
mother  stooped  to  kiss  her  child,  murmuring  a 
prayer  to  her  God  for  her  darling  as  she  did  so. 

"Now,  dear,"  said  Irene,  as  the  door  closed  softly 
after  them,  "I  am  going  to  be  very  serious.  First, 
though,  I  want  you  to  know  how  happy  I  am.  I  am 
happy  about  everything  but  you.  I  know  that  I 
shall  not  be  with  you  very  long;  I  believe  that  only 
a  few  hours  are  left  to  me  here;  but,  Carlie  boy, 
I  am  so  glad  to  go!  I  am  so  sure  that  my  dear 
Saviour  is  waiting  for  me.  So  sure  that  this  weary 
weakness  will  soon  be  over  forever,  and  that  I  shall 
enter  into  the  great  eternal  joy.  But  I  am  sorry  to 
leave  all  of  my  dear  ones  behind,  and,  oh!  so  sorry 
that  you  do  not  believe  in  Christ  as  I  do.  Oh,  Carl !' 
and  with  an  exertion  almost  beyond  her  strength, 
Irene  raised  herself  suddenly,  and  winding  her  arms 
about  his  neck  drew  him  down  to  her,  "won't  you 
believe  for  my  sake?  Can't  you  see  that  this  is  the 
only  way  that  we  can  ever  meet  again  ?  Won't  you 
force  yourself  to  kneel  at  Jesus'  feet?  I  know  that 
you  can  if  you  will,  and  I  am  sure  that  it  is  the  way 
of  truth.  Oh,  it  seems  as  if  I  must  persuade  you; 


UNCLE  CARL  15 

as  if  God  would  not  receive  me  home  if  1  cannot  take 
to  Him  the  love  of  my  own  precious  boy." 

"Hush!  Irene,  hush!"  cried  Carl.  "If  any  one 
could  persuade  me;  if  any  circumstances  could  draw 
me;  if  any  emotion  could  lead  me,  you  would  make 
me  believe  in  the  divinity  of  Christ.  But,  even 
you—" 

"Don't,  Carl,"  Irene  interrupted;  "don't  say  it. 
I  won't  have  it  so.  You  must,  I  say;  oh,  you  must 
see  Jesus  as  I  see  Him !  Oh !  my  time  is  so  short 
here,  and  eternity  so  long  there;  and  I  cannot  think 
that  you  will  not  be  with  me  there,  my  darling. 
Carl,"  suddenly  softening  her  voice  till  it  was  scarce 
above  a  whisper,  "won't  you  pray  with  me?  Won't 
you  just  kneel  down  by  my  bedside  and  take  my 
hand  and  ask  God  to  give  your  heart  to  Christ?  I 
am  dying,  Carl  dear,  and  this  is  almost  my  last  word. 
Won't  you  pray  with  me?" 

There  was,  perhaps,  never  so  hard  a  battle  fought 
in  shorter  time  than  Carl  Englewood  was  called  upon 
to  fight  at  the  bedside  of  this  pure,  innocent  little 
Christian.  The  last  request  she  would  ever  make 
of  him.  A  request  which,  if  granted,  she  believed 
would  result  in  his  and  her  everlasting  joy.  That 
would  lead  him  to  truth  and  rest  in  her  Saviour; 
and  which  she  believed  was  the  only  way  by  which 
he  could  be  saved.  Why  not  grant  it?  It  was  only 
a  simple  act.  An  act  that  he  did  not  believe  in,  it 
is  true,  but  what  harm  could  be  done  by  yielding 
to  the  last  wish  of  his  only  love? 

Carl  bowed  his  head  and  touched  with  his  lips 
Irene's  forehead.  Could  he  yield?  How  gladly 
would  he  save  her  from  the  least  suggestion  of  pain, 
even  at  the  cost  of  life !  He  raised  his  head  and  looked 
into  her  eyes.  They  met  his,  pure  and  true,  yet  with 


1 6  UNCLE  CARL 

a  great  longing  love  that  seemed  to  come  from  a 
world  beyond  this.  Yes!  he  would  give  his  life  to 
save  this  dear  one  a  breath  of  sorrow;  but,  he  had 
something  that  was  dearer  to  him  and  to  her  than 
life,  and  that  was — honor.  Not  even  for  her  could 
he  sacrifice  that. 

"Oh!  my  precious  darling,"  he  said  at  length,  "do 
you  know  all  that  you  ask?  Surely  you  would  not 
have  me  act  the  hypocrite  now,  even  if  it  would  give 
you  a  few  moments  of  happiness!  If  I  should  pray 
with  you  now,  and  in  that  'great  beyond'  you  should 
look  down  upon  me  from  'our  star,'  would  you  not 
know  that  I  had  been  untrue  to  us  both?  Gladly 
would  I  believe  as  you  do  if  I  could  honestly;  but  it 
would  not  be  honorable  to  God,  nor  to  you,  nor  to 
myself  to  allow  the  emotions  of  this  hour  to  lead  me 
to  a  forgetfulness  of  truth  as  I  see  it.  You  remem- 
ber that  we  have  talked  of  this  before;  and  while 
you  believed  that  man's  first  duty  was  to  'Glorify 
God,'  I  believed  that  his  first  duty  was  'Absolute 
sincerity  in  thought,  and  word,  and  deed.'  And  you 
were  sincere  in  your  worship,  while  I  believed  that 
I  best  'Glorified  God'  by  living  according  to  my 
lights.  And  in  spite  of  our  difference,  you  loved  me, 
dear.  Loved  me  because  you  thought  me  true.  You 
would  not  have  me  untrue  now,  would  you ;  have  my 
last  act  to  you  in  this  life  be  the  act  of  a  hypocrite?" 

"Oh,  Carl!"  said  Irene,  after  a  pause,  "I  might 
have  known  it.  Do  you  know,  I  think  after  all  you 
are  more  of  a  Christian  than  I  am.  You  are  true 
even  now,  and  I  have  tempted  you  so  sorely.  And 
surely,  a  man  who  is  so  unyielding  when  his  honor 
is  at  stake  is  such  as  Christ  loves  to  gather  into, His 
Kingdom.  I  love  you  more  than  ever,  dear.  I 
honor  you  more  deeply.  I  am  sorry,  oh,  so  sorry, 


UNCLE  CARL  17 

that  you  cannot  see  the  light  as  I  do.  But  I  believe 
that  you  will  see  it.  Your  soul  is  too  noble  for  God 
to  lose;  and  He  will  yet  bring  you  to  Himself.  I 
believe  it  truly,  and  I  can  die  happy  in  that  belief; 
for  now  I  know  that  we  shall  meet  again  in  that 
great  eternity.  And,  Carl,  dear,"  she  whispered, 
"when  the  time  comes  I'll  be  at  the  Gate  to  meet 
you." 

She  was  quiet  for  a  few  moments  and  then,  with 
a  great  yearning  sob,  she  drew  his  face  down  to  hers. 
"Kiss  me,  dear,"  she  said.  "Oh,  my  precious  one! 
It  is  hard  to  leave  you.  But  I  know  that  your  life 
will  be  pure  and  true.  You  will  carry  out  the  dear 
work  we  have  planned  together;  and,  some  time, 
after  you  have  got  used  to  your  sorrow,  you  will 
make  a  happy  home  for — some — other — little — 
woman.  I  don't  want  you  to  be  lonely,  dear;  and 
I  want  the  world  to  get  the  good  of  your  noble  life. 
But  you  will  never  forget  me,  Carlie,  will  you?" 

"Forget  you,  Irene ! — my  own  precious  girl — 
never !  Can  I  ever  forget  the  purest  influence  of  my 
life?  Would  I,  if  I  could?  While  life  is  mine, 
the  dearest,  sweetest,  noblest  of  my  thoughts  shall 
ever  be  of  you.  My  life  shall  be  lonely,  but  I  do 
hope,  and  I  shall  ever  hope  that  some  time,  some 
where,  beyond  the  shadows  of  the  grave,  you  and  I 
shall  meet.  Aye,  I  shall  hope  that  your  prayers 
shall  be  answered  and  that  we  shall  again  clasp  each 
other — heart  to  heart — 'at  the  Gate.'  ' 

Their  lips  met  in  one  long  caress,  and  then  Irene's 
head  dropped  to  his  shoulder  and  she  slept.  Gently 
he  laid  her  back  on  the  pillow  as,  with  a  gentle  tap 
at  the  door,  Mrs.  Denton  entered.  Together  they 


1 8  UNCLE  CARL 

sat  by  the  bedside  and  watched  the  waning  life  of 
one  who  had  brought  so  much  sunshine  into  the 
heart  of  each. 

"Carl,"  said  Mrs.  Denton,  UI  would  not  add  the 
slightest  weight  to  your  sorrow;  I  know  that  it  is 
heavy.  Aye,  heavier  than  my  own;  because  you 
have  not  received  the  'Comforter'  who  helps  me  to 
bear  my  burden.  But,  can  you  look  at  our  little  girl 
as  she  lies  here,  knowing  her  pure  life,  seeing  her 
great  faith  in  the  Master,  and — yes,  through  her 
eyes,  as  she  looks  through  the  Gates  of  Death — see 
the  beauties  of  the  heaven  beyond,  and  not  believe 
as  we  do  in  the  salvation  through  Christ?" 

"Mother,"  said  Carl,  as  he  reached  out  and 
clasped  her  hand,  "if  anything  could  lead  me  to  your 
God  I  believe  that  you  and  Irene  could  do  it.  But 
I  cannot  let  my  emotions  lead  me  here.  I  wish  that 
I  could,  for  her  sake  and  for  yours ;  but  my  own  way 
seems  best  for  me  now.  I  must  be  true  to  my  con- 
science else  I  would  be  unworthy  of  the  love  and 
trust  that  has  blessed  my  life." 

"And,  yet,"  said  Mrs.  Denton,  "you  could  if  you 
would.  And  if  you  only  knew  how  strengthening 
and  comforting  such  a  belief  is  I  am  sure  you 
would — for  your  own  sake  as  well  as  ours." 

"Yes,  no  doubt  I  could,  if  I  would,"  replied  he; 
"but,  my  dear  friend,  where  is  the  strength  and  com- 
fort of  knowing  that  I  had  deliberately  blinded  my- 
self to  what  seems  to  me  to  be  the  real  truth?  No! 
I  must  stand  by  my  own  strength  now.  And  I  be- 
lieve that  the  real  comfort  in  life  springs,  not  from 
our  religious  views,  but  from  the  knowledge  that  one 
has  never  faltered  in  his  endeavor  to  live  a  true  life 
according  to  his  lights;  and  my  lights  do  not  show 


UNCLE  CARL  19 

me  that  your  Christ  was  anything  other  than  a  true, 
noble  man." 

"Oh,  Carl,  my  heart  yearns  to  take  you  into  the 
fold!"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Denton;  "but  yet  I  can  see 
that  you  are  right  in  your  decision,  from  your  point 
of  view.  You  are  very  strong  now,  and  I  would 
trust  your  honor  under  all  circumstances.  We  were 
even  proud  to  trust  our  dear  child  with  you,  in  spite 
of  your  non-belief;  because  we  could  see  that  truth 
was  all-in-all  to  you.  But  the  time  will  come — I  be- 
lieve it  firmly — when  the  hand  of  God  will  lead  you 
into  His  paths.  Though  He  has  forbidden  your 
marriage  here,  He  will  bring  you  to  Irene  in  that 
beautiful  land  beyond  the  stars.  I  am  sure  of  it." 

"I  hope  so,  oh,  I  hope  so!"  cried  Carl.  "But,  my 
dear  friend,  it  could  never  be  that  He  would  lead 
me  to  her  there  if  I  were  false  to  her  now  by  staining 
my  honor  with  a  pretension  of  a  belief  that  I  cannot 
feel  is  true." 

Mr.  Denton  and  the  doctor  entering,  they  drew 
aside  while  the  latter  placed  his  finger  for  a  moment 
on  Irene's  pulse.  "She  is  sinking  fast,"  he  said  at 
length;  "she  can  scarcely  survive  the  night."  Giv- 
ing a  few  brief  directions  in  regard  to  some  cordials 
to  be  given  should  she  awaken,  and  promising  to  call 
again  in  the  early  morning,  he  left  the  sorrowing 
ones  to  watch  by  the  bedside. 

Slowly  the  hours  passed;  the  stillness  of  the  night 
broken  only  by  the  occasional  word  of  sympathy,  or 
the  soft  rustle  as  they  moved  quietly  about,  perform- 
ing the  last  loving  services  for  the  dear  one.  In  the 
early  morning  Irene  roused  for  a  few  moments,  and 
calling  each  one  to  her,  spoke  softly  a  few  words  of 
farewell;  and  to  Carl,  as  he  pressed  his  lips  to  hers, 
she  whispered,  "Remember,  my  darling,  /  shall  meet 


20  UNCLE  CARL 

you  at  the  Gate."  Again  she  seemed  to  slumber,  and 
then,  as  a  ray  of  golden  light  from  the  rising  sun 
pierced  the  clouds  and  fell  athwart  the  bed,  she 
drifted  out  upon  the  "Great  Eternal  Sea." 

We  pass  over  the  few  days  following,  filled  as 
they  were  with  grief,  and  preparations  for  the  burial 
of  the  chief  joy  in  life  for  these  three.  In  another 
fortnight,  had  she  lived,  Irene  would  have  been  Carl 
Englewood's  bride.  But  the  laws  of  being  had  for- 
bidden that  such  great  joy  should  be  his;  and  hence- 
forth he  was  to  have  only  the  memory  of  her  love 
and  purity  to  lighten  his  struggles  in  life. 

As  he  stood  alone  by  her  grave  in  the  still  hours 
of  that  Christmas  night  following  the  last  sad  offices 
to  the  dead,  and  strove  to  reconcile  himself  to  his 
loss,  he  raised  his  eyes  beyond  the  grim  shadows  of 
the  surrounding  mountains  and  sought  the  star  that, 
on  a  joyous  evening  in  the  past,  they  two  had  play- 
fully selected  as  their  future  home  when  time  should 
have  ceased  for  them.  And  it  seemed  to  him  as  if 
all  the  infinite  blazonry  of  the  worlds  above  united 
in  a  benediction  to  their  love,  making  it  a  sacred 
thing  forevermore;  and  from  the  star — their  star — 
a  stronger  radiance  seemed  to  stream,  and  to  fill  his 
heart  with  a  solemn  joy  as  he  recalled  her  last  words 
to  him,  "Remember,  my  darling,  I  shall  meet  you  at 
the  Gate." 

"Oh !  Irene,"  he  softly  said,  "if  a  life  of  redoubled 
effort;  if  a  constant  earnestness  in  seeking  truth;  if 
an  unfailing  worship  at  the  shrine  of  the  beautiful 
and  holy — of  which  you  were  to  me  the  personifica- 
tion; if  an  unfaltering  endeavor  to  lift  humanity 
nearer  to  the  true  ideal  of  manhood  and  womanhood 
can  avail  anything,  then  mine  shall  be  the  effort  and 


UNCLE  CARL  21 

the  earnestness,  the  worship  and  the  endeavor:  and 
if  the  time  of  a  realization  of  our  hopes  shall  come, 
I  shall  be  worthy  to  meet  you  'at  the  Gate.'  Fare- 
well, beloved." 

Returning  to  the  desolate  home,  he  passed  at  once 
to  his  room ;  and  the  next  day,  having  bade  farewell 
to  the  sorrowing  mother  and  father,  he  once  more 
took  up  the  burdens  of  life  and  departed  for  his 
fields  of  labor. 


CHAPTER  II 

Carl  Englewood  was  often  called  a  peculiar  char- 
acter, perhaps  with  some  reason.  The  chief  differ- 
ence, however,  between  him  and  the  majority  of  his 
contemporaries  was  that  he  abhorred  hypocrisy  in 
all  forms;  while  so-called  "policy"  too  often  governs 
the  world  to  the  detriment  of  the  higher  beauties  of 
character  which  alone  make  life  worth  living. 

Carl  was  the  youngest  boy  of  a  family  of  seven 
children,  and  his  earlier  years  were  passed  much  as 
the  years  of  other  children  of  his  class.  His  people 
were  Christian  in  name,  in  comfortable  circum- 
stances, and  in  so  far  as  the  necessities  of  life  were 
concerned,  managed  to  journey  through  this  mun- 
dane sphere  without  much  worry.  They  ate,  drank, 
quarreled,  played,  and  in  fact  were  as  the  majority 
so  far  as  mere  living  was  concerned. 

We  have  said  that  "they  were  Christian  in  name"; 
by  that  we  mean  that  the  father  and  mother  were 
members  of  the  church,  and  so  far  as  the  outward 
forms  were  concerned,  lived  the  Christian  life.  They 
attended  services  regularly,  each  belonged  to  several 
committees,  they  subscribed  to  charities  according 
to  their  means,  the  children  were  sent  to  Sunday- 
school,  and  as  they  grew  older  their  names  were 
added  to  the  roll  of  church  membership.  But  in 
these  outward  forms  their  Christianity  seemed  to 
end;  for  the  real  spirit  of  the  Master  they  professed 
to  follow  and  serve  seemed  to  have  found  no  home  in 
their  hearts.  In  the  privacy  of  their  home,  quarrels, 
bickerings,  jealousies,  and  pouting  were  of  daily  oc- 


UNCLE  CARL  23 

currence;  and  the  peace  which  the  true  acceptance 
of  Christ  brings  into  every  household  was  crowded 
out  by  the  selfishness  of  each  member.  There  was  a 
difference  between  Carl  and  his  people.  The  young- 
est of  a  family  who  were  tired  of  "bringing  up 
babies,"  it  was  seen  that  he  attended  both  day  and 
Sunday-schools  regularly,  and  had  enough  to  eat  and 
wear,  but  beyond  that  it  seemed  that  no  one  owed 
him  a  duty.  Naturally  bright  and  with  a  keen  de- 
sire to  know,  he  early  gained  the  title  of  the  "walk- 
ing interrogation  point."  With  the  sensitiveness  of 
a  refinement  beyond  his  years,  however,  he  never 
obtruded  his  desires  to  know  where  they  would  be 
unwelcome,  if  he  could  avoid  it.  At  home,  where 
he  should  have  received  the  most  encouragement  and 
assistance,  he  soon  learned  that  he  was  an  "odd  sheep." 
His  questions  were  unheeded,  or  he  was  impatiently 
told  that  he  was  "too  young  to  think  of  such  things." 
The  home  love  seemed  to  have  been  exhausted  when 
he  was  born,  and  no  one  cared  to  help  his  struggling 
mind.  Very  unselfish  himself,  ready  to  yield  any- 
thing where  it  would  give  pleasure,  yet  with  a  pride 
of  his  own  that  taught  him  to  rely  upon  his  own  ig- 
norance rather  than  to  seek  knowledge  where  it  was 
grudgingly  given  when  given  at  all,  he  soon  learned 
to  forbear  questioning  in  the  home.  He  was,  how- 
ever, blessed  with  friends  who  were  glad  to  help 
him.  His  teachers  took  great  pride  in  advancing 
him  in  his  studies,  and  he  repaid  them  manyfold  by 
a  strong  and  lasting  affection.  His  Sabbath-school 
teacher,  especially,  was  one  of  those  pure,  sincere 
Christians  who,  passing  through  deep  affliction,  had 
bound  herself  more  and  more  closely  to  the  "Man  of 
Sorrows,"  and  finding  there  a  comfort  more  than 
outweighing  her  own  great  griefs,  her  heart  went 


24  UNCLE  CARL 

out  with  yearning  to  all  who  were  seeking  the  light. 
To  her,  little  Carl  seemed  like  a  beautiful  and  rare 
plant  that  needed  tender  care  and  careful  cultivation, 
but  who  would  repay  a  thousandfold  the  loving  care 
given  him,  by  the  rich,  fragrant  blossoms  of  his  man- 
hood. Suspecting  the  lack  of  sympathy  in  his  home, 
she  devoted  herself  to  him  more  and  more,  weaving 
about  him  the  life  of  her  Master,  teaching  him  love 
and  duty  and  self-sacrifice;  and  to  her  Carl  learned 
to  go  with  all  his  little  boyish  troubles,  and  plans 
and  questions,  and  there  he  always  found  sympathy 
and  helpfulness,  and — the  Saviour. 

And  thus  time  passed  on  until  he  was  twelve  years 
of  age.  At  this  time,  if  there  was  ever  a  sincere, 
earnest  little  Christian  of  that  age,  Carl  was  one. 
Unselfish  to  a  fault,  patient,  with  a  strong  loving 
disposition,  and  a  perfect  belief  in  the  Christ  whose 
teachings  he  tried  to  follow  in  every  act,  and  in 
whose  service  he  found  his  chief  pleasure,  he  was 
the  pride  of  his  teachers  and  a  beloved  companion  to 
his  playmates;  many  of  whom  learned  to  come  to 
him  with  their  own  little  sorrows  and  secrets,  with  a 
perfect  trust  in  his  boyish  honor  and  sure  of  his  will- 
ing counsel.  At  home,  however,  it  seemed  to  him 
that  the  coldness  grew ;  and  the  increasing  graces  of 
his  mind  and  character  only  brought  forth  the  sneers, 
or  envy,  or  silent  indifference  of  his  brothers  and  sis- 
ters. Even  his  mother,  who  should  have  been  his 
guide,  still  failed  in  her  duty.  He  was  to  her  only 
a  troublesome  boy  who  must  be  fed  and  clothed  until 
old  enough  to  earn  his  own  living.  His  mind  she 
gave  little  thought  for — that  would  grow,  somehow. 
Yet  she  was  not  a  bad  mother  at  heart.  She  doubt- 
less loved  the  boy  in  a  way  and  would  resent  any 
insinuation  that  she  was  not  doing  as  well  by  him 


UNCLE  CARL  25 

as  she  had  by  her  other  children,  or  as  any  other 
mother  would  do  for  her  offspring.  She  was  rather 
tired  of  bringing  up  a  family;  and  her  adherence 
to  the  forms  of  Christianty,  without  a  real  sense  of 
the  spirit  of  Christ,  had  so  blinded  her  eyes  that  her 
whole  life  was  a  pretence,  even  to  self-deception. 
She  was  not  actively  bad,  neither  was  she  actively 
good,  save  as  the  forms  of  the  'church,  to  which  she 
rigidly  conformed,  may  have  led  to  good;  and  when 
on  rare  occasions  Carl,  with  a  longing  for  affection, 
would  come  to  her  and  gently  pat  her  hand  or  per- 
haps try  to  put  his  arm  about  her  neck,  she  would 
passively  allow  the  caress,  but  would  not  so  respond 
that  he  would  feel  drawn  to  a  more  open  manifesta- 
tion of  his  longing.  Or,  if  he  asked  questions,  or 
sought  help  in  his  studies,  she  readily  succeeded  in 
persuading  herself  that  she  was  too  tired,  or  he  was 
too  young,  or  she  was  busy,  wilfully  blinding  herself 
to  the  real  reason,  which  was,  "I  don't  want  to  be 
bothered." 

Oh,  how  many  mothers  there  are  like  Mrs.  Engle- 
wood !  How  many  criminals  there  are  who  can  trace 
their  first  wrong  bias  back  to  just  such  a  "Christian" 
home  as  Carl's! 

His  father,  immersed  in  business  affairs,  and  leav- 
ing the  household  to  his  wife's  care,  was  almost  a 
stranger  to  Carl,  and  the  boy  could  not  remember 
when  he  had  shown  him  any  affection  or  care. 

One  evening,  as  the  family  were  gathered  in  the 
sitting-room  after  tea,  reading,  writing,  and  gossip- 
ing, Carl,  who  had  been  vainly  endeavoring  to  under- 
stand a  problem  in  physics,  appealed  to  one  of  his 
brothers,  saying,  "Oh,  dear,  I  can't  seem  to  get 
this  through  my  head.  Won't  you  help  me,  Ed- 
ward?" And  Edward,  a  jaunty  young  man  of  twenty- 


26  UNCLE  CARL 

three  years,  looked  up  from  a  book  he  was  reading, 
to  frown  and  say,  "Oh,  bother!  No,  go  to  your 
dear  Miss  Armstrong,  if  you  want  help.  I'm  not 
going  to  teach  you."  And  then  Carl  went  to  his 
father's  chair,  and  timidly  asked  him  to  explain  the 
difficult  point.  Mr.  Englewood  held  his  paper  aside 
and  asked  for  the  question.  "Well,  papa,"  said 
Carl,  "my  book  says  that  the  moon  goes  clear  around 
the  earth  once  a  month  and  then  it  gives  this  diagram 
of  it;  and  see,  this  is  the  way  the  earth  goes,  just  a 
long  curved  line,  and  the  moon  goes  on  this  line — 
just  goes  up  and  down  across  the  earth's  line  like  a 
snake — and  I  can't  see  how  it  goes  around  the  earth 
at  all." 

Mr.  Englewood  was  not  at  all  conversant  with  the 
movements  of  the  planets;  his  life  was  devoted  to 
his  business,  and  he  considered  the  study  of  anything 
that  did  not  apply  to  business  as  time  wasted.  So, 
instead  of  answering  Carl's  question,  he  turned  to 
Mrs.  Englewood  and  said: 

"Wife,  I  don't  think  this  boy's  head  ought  to  be 
stuffed  with  this  kind  of  nonsense.  If  that's  all  he's 
getting  in  school,  we'd  better  take  him  out  and  teach 
him  a  trade.  He's  getting  old  enough  to  be  earning 
something." 

"Oh,  let  him  go  to  school  a  while  longer,"  said 
Mrs.  Englewood;  "he's  much  less  bother  there; 
besides,  I  don't  know  what  we  could  put  him  at." 

"Well,  I  don't  know  that  I  care  much  whether  he 
goes  or  not,  but  I'm  not  going  to  spend  my  money 
for  books  of  astronomy,  or  Latin,  or  algebra,  or 
any  such  truck  as  that.  They  are  not  necessary  by 
any  means.  And  my  dollars  come  too  hard  to  throw 
away  on  foolishness  of  that  kind." 

"Why  don't  he  earn  his  own  books,"  said  Ed- 


UNCLE  CARL  27 

ward;  "he's  big  enough.  I  used  to  pick  up  a  lot  of 
spending  money  when  I  was  a  kid." 

"Oh,  I  don't  want  to  leave  school,"  pleaded  Carl. 
"I  would  do  most  anything  to  stay  there." 

"I  guess  Edward's  idea  is  a  good  one,"  said  his 
father,  as  he  returned  to  his  paper.  "Earn  your  own 
money  and  buy  your  own  books,  or  else  leave  school." 

It  was  in  this  atmosphere  of  indifference  to  his  in- 
tellectual needs  and  yearnings  that  Carl's  younger 
days  were  passed.  And  it  was  by  comparing  the 
private  home  life  of  his  family  with  all  of  its  selfish- 
ness and  quarreling,  its  jealousies  and  gossiping,  its 
indifference  to  good  and  its  yielding  to  evil,  with  the 
public  life,  with  its  professions  of  Christianity,  its 
strict  adherence  to  church  discipline  and  its  adulation 
of  so-called  social  respectability,  that  he  gained  his 
first  knowledge  of  hypocrisy.  Scrupulously  exact 
himself,  abhorring  deceit  in  all  forms  as  he  would 
carrion,  he  hated  hypocrisy  with  all  the  strength  of 
his  young  heart.  But  the  natural  affection  which  all 
must  feel  who  have  ever  known  the  ties  of  blood, 
rendered  it  impossible  for  him  to  hate  the  hypocrite, 
even  though  he  loathed  hypocrisy,  for  would  not  that 
have  made  him  an  enemy  to  his  own  people?  And 
was  not  he  taught  by  his  Saviour  to  love?  So  he 
made  excuses  for  them  and  tried  as  best  he  could 
to  right  the  wrong.  But  this  hatred  of  untruthful- 
ness  in  deed  or  word  became  a  leading  passion  with 
him,  that  was  to  grow  with  his  growth,  and  to  be 
one  of  the  chief  elements  to  mould  his  life.  With 
the  help  of  his  friends  outside  of  the  home  circle  he 
found  many  little  pieces  of  work,  and  contrived  to 
earn  enough  money  to  purchase  most  of  his  needed 
books,  while  his  instructors  kindly  loaned  him  such 
as  he  could  not  buy.  And  so  for  the  next  two  years 


28  UNCLE  CARL 

he  continued  at  school,  studying  hard  during  school 
hours  and  in  the  evenings,  and  in  his  spare  hours 
carrying  wood  to  fill  the  boxes  at  school,  or  driving 
cows  to  pasture,  or  running  errands  to  get  the  needed 
pennies. 

At  the  age  of  fifteen,  however,  his  father  in- 
sisted that  Carl  leave  school  and  assist  him  in  his 
business,  his  brother  Edward  having  concluded  to 
accept  a  position  at  a  distance,  where,  as  he  expressed 
it,  "he  could  be  his  own  boss."  And  at  this  time  be- 
gan those  doubts  in  regard  to  the  Christian  religion, 
which  were  to  make  or  mar  his  whole  life.  Until 
this  time,  it  is  to  be  remembered,  Carl  had  accepted 
and  placed  implicit  confidence  in  the  teachings  of  the 
church  as  revealed  to  him  by  his  beloved  teacher, 
Annie  Armstrong,  and  had  most  conscientiously  and 
happily  served  the  Christ.  But  a  time  had  now 
come  when  he  must  think  for  himself,  and  with  much 
anguish  of  spirit  "work  out  his  own  salvation." 

Physically  Carl  was,  as  a  boy,  very  timid,  and  it 
was  not  until  years  afterward,  when  his  mind  and 
will  had  matured,  that  he  was  able  to  overcome  his 
physical  shrinking.  The  truly  courageous  man  is 
not  the  fearless  man,  but  the  man  who  from  a  sense 
of  duty  or  other  strong  motive  overcomes  by  strength 
of  will  the  shrinking  of  the  flesh  or  the  trembling  for 
one's  reputation,  and  "nobly  dares  the  danger  nature 
shrinks  from."  And  so  Carl's  timidity  was  not 
strange  nor  to  be  regarded  as  unworthy.  Circum- 
stances had  never  brought  him  into  the  presence  of 
danger,  real  or  fancied,  and  his  will  to  overcome 
that  natural  "shrinking"  had  never  been  taxed.  Since 
he  could  remember  he  had  never  been  left  alone  at 
night,  and  for  several  years  Edward  had  been  his 
bed-fellow.  But  with  Edward's  departure  Carl  was 


UNCLE  CARL  29 

told  that  he  must  sleep  alone.  It  may  seem  to  my 
readers  a  very  simple  thing  to  cause  such  great 
trouble,  yet  as  we  are  giving  a  true  history  of  an 
earnest  life  we  must  relate  the  very  beginning  and 
cause  of  struggles  that  were  fraught  with  moment- 
ous consequences.  A  single  spark  may  be  sufficient 
to  cause  a  great  conflagration ;  a  single  word  dropped 
in  the  ear  of  a  multitude  may  change  the  fate  of 
nations;  and  a  single  fear  raised  a  doubt  in  Carl's 
mind  that  it  took  years  to  resolve,  and  which  resulted 
in  changing  entirely  the  current  of  his  thoughts  and 
studies. 

That  first  night  alone,  Carl,  having  prepared  him- 
self for  sleep,  knelt  at  his  bedside  and  offered  his 
petition  to  the  Most  High,  as  was  his  habit,  and 
then,  putting  out  the  light,  he  crept  into  bed.  He 
did  not  feel  particularly  fearful  at  first,  and  arrang- 
ing the  covering  comfortably  he  drifted  off  into 
thoughts  of  his  life  to  be ;  his  start  with  his  father's 
business,  how  he  would  study  nights,  and  of  his  plans 
for  the  future.  But  as  he  lay  there  planning,  there 
came  to  him  a  slowly  creeping  sensation  of  intense 
loneliness  in  life.  His  beloved  Sunday-school 
teacher  had  gone  to  make  her  home  at  a  distance; 
his  withdrawal  from  school  would  remove  him  from 
his  instructors  there  in  great  measure.  There  was 
no  one  to  whom  he  could  go  with  his  little  troubles 
and  schemes  and  feel  that  he  would  be  welcome,  his 
own  people,  from  their  lack  of  sympathy,  being  out 
of  the  question.  Oh,  how  much  alone  he  felt  in  his 
life!  Half  unconsciously  he  turned  over  and  thrust 
out  his  hand  that  he  might  touch  his  brother  Ed- 
ward, just  to  feel  that  he  had  some  company  at 
least.  But  his  hand  failed  to  reach  Edward,  and  he 
suddenly  remembered  that  he  was  alone  there,  too. 


30  UNCLE  CARL 

With  a  little  sigh  he  drew  the  coverings  closer,  and 
listened. 

Outside,  the  night  wind  blew  gently  and  the 
swaying  boughs  of  an  old  maple  tapped  softly  on 
the  window.  The  footsteps  of  a  belated  traveler 
were  heard  as  they  passed  and  died  away  in  the  dis- 
tance; and  from  afar  came  the  faint  barking  of  a 
dog.  Oh,  how  lonely  it  was!  And  Carl  began  to 
think  of  all  the  stories  he  had  heard  and  read  of 
night's  terrors,  until  his  heart  almost  stopped  beat- 
ing. Cowardly?  Yes.  Yet  an  excusable  cowardice. 
Even  full  grown  and  brave  men  shrink  from  un- 
known dangers,  though  some  would  take  fearful 
odds  with  scarce  the  quiver  of  a  muscle  could  they 
see  and  measure  the  foe.  There  are  no  dangers  more 
fearsome  than  those  conjured  up  by  untrained  imag- 
ination; and  poor  Carl  was  but  a  lad  and  all  unused 
to  battling  with  physical  fears.  Studious  beyond  his 
years,  he  was  now  only  a  struggling  mentality;  one 
searching  for  great  truths,  striving  to  gain  a  keener 
apprehension  of  the  marvelous  theories  advanced  by 
the  great  philosophers;  and  never  having  had  reason 
for  thinking  of  danger  to  his  physical  person,  was 
all  untrained  and  unprepared.  Of  an  intense  ner- 
vous organization,  an  indefinable  fear  of  an  unknown 
danger  took  complete  possession  of  him,  and  he  lay 
in  his  bed  trembling  in  every  fiber.  It  seemed  to 
him  hours  that  he  lay  there  futilely  striving  to  con- 
trol himself,  until  he  was  almost  at  the  point  of 
screaming.  Suddenly  a  strain  of  distant  music  pene- 
trated the  chamber.  A  company  of  young  people  re- 
turning from  some  social  gathering  were  singing,  as 
they  moved  homeward,  one  of  the  popular  airs  of 
the  day.  But  as  the  melody  reached  Carl's  ear, 
softened  by  distance,  it  suggested  to  him  thoughts 


UNCLE  CARL  31 

of  the  church  and  its  music.  And,  oh,  Carl,  why 
didn't  you  think  of  that  before ! — of  the  Master. 
Like  the  storm  on  the  sea  of  Galilee,  Carl's  tremb- 
ling ceased  as  he  seemed  to  hear  the  dear  command, 
"Peace,  be  still."  And  he  almost  laughed  as  he 
thought,  "Why,  there's  nothing  for  me  to  fear;  and 
even  if  there  was  would  not  Jesus  protect  me?  Of 
course  He  would.  I  love  Him  and  He  loves  me; 
and  have  I  not  asked  Him  to  keep  us  all  safe  and 
hasn't  He  promised  to  answer  the  prayers  of  his 
people?  I'll  just  rest  with  Him."  And  with  a  great 
sigh  of  relief  Carl  once  more  prepared  himself  for 
sleep.  But  his  thoughts  were  not  to  be  quieted  at 
once,  and  they  roamed  on  and  on,  as  he  lay  half 
asleep,  yet  conscious  of  his  surroundings,  of  the  rising 
wind  now  blowing  fiercely,  of  the  maple  branches 
striking  against  the  window  panes,  of  the  baying  of 
the  dog  in  the  distance.  But  he  felt  safe,  thoroughly 
safe,  with  his  "Elder  Brother." 

Suddenly  a  thought  came  to  him  with  such  force 
that  it  almost  seemed  that  some  one  had  spoken;  a 
thought  that  created  in  him  a  terror  such  as  he  had 
never  imagined — "Suppose  there  is  no  God."  He 
sprang  up  in  his  bed  and  strained  his  eyes  to  see  who 
had  spoken;  he  called,  "Who  is  it?"  But  there  was 
no  answer  save  the  wind  and  the  tapping  of  the 
maple  branches,  and  every  time  they  struck  the  win- 
dow they  seemed  to  drive  into  his  brain  the  terrible 
words,  "Suppose  there  is  no  God?"  and  again,  "How 
do  you  know  there  is  a  Christ?" 

"How  do  I  know  it?"  said  Carl  to  himself. 
"Why,  because  it  must  be.  I  have  always  believed 
it;  it  must  be  so;  it  must  be  so,"  and  he  lay  down 
again.  But  the  doubt  had  entered  his  heart,  a  faint 
doubt;  scarcely  a  doubt  at  all,  but  rather  a  question- 


32  UNCLE  CARL 

ing.  He  shivered  as  he  lay  there.  It  seemed  to 
him  that  he  was  committing  a  sin  to  harbor  such 
thoughts  for  an  instant,  and  yet  he  could  not  force 
them  back.  Again  and  again  he  repeated,  "It  must 
be  so,  it  must  be  so" ;  but  again  and  again  the  hor- 
rible question  returned  with  ever-increasing  insist- 
ence, until  the  sense  of  sin  reached  such  a  point  that, 
forgetting  all  thought  of  other  fear  than  the  wrath 
of  the  God  in  whom  he  believed, — yet  thought  he 
doubted, — he  bounded  out  of  bed  and  knelt  in  tearful 
prayer,  that  his  God  would  help  him  to  cast  out  the 
doubt,  would  cleanse  him  from  the  least  shadow  of 
the  sin  of  denial,  and  pardon  him  for  yielding  to 
such  thoughts.  And  pleading  thus,  striving  to 
throw  himself  wholly  in  to  the  arms  of  "Him  who 
is  mighty  to  save,"  Carl  at  last  felt  comforted  and 
crawled  back  into  bed,  humiliated  to  think  of  his 
weakness,  yet  trusting  that  God  had  removed  his 
doubt  and  would  help  to  keep  it  out  of  his  heart; 
and,  tired  out,  he  soon  slept. 

We  do  not  think  that  our  poor  boy  really  doubted 
the  existence  of  God  in  his  heart.  His  feeling  was 
one  of  those  superficial  fears  which,  in  harmony  with 
the  conditions  of  his  being  on  this  night  of  nights, 
seemed  to  him  a  criminal  doubting  of  that  which  he 
believed  he  knew  to  be  true.  It  was  more  of  a  physi- 
cal shrinking  from  uncertainty  than  an  intellectual 
process;  but  the  instant  he  realized  the  fear  it 
seemed  to  him  to  become  a  real  denial  of  the  Saviour, 
and  it  was  with  this  thought  that  he  asked  God  for 
pardon  and  help.  Yet  the  first  germ  of  doubt,  the 
seed  of  infidelity,  was  sown  in  his  heart.  It  was  not 
removed;  only  its  sting  was  covered  for  this  night, 
and  the  next  day  he  would  remember  it  with  humilia- 
tion, and  it  would  return  again  and  again.  Would  he 


UNCLE  CARL  33 

be  able  to  stifle  it?  Would  he  ever  again  have  a 
simple  childlike  faith?  Would  he  ever  rest  calmly 
again  in  the  arms  of  the  Crucified  One?  Look  ye 
along  the  years  of  his  future  and  judge  whether  his 
life  was  worth  the  living,  or  whether  it  would  have 
been  of  any  value  but  for  this  night  of  fear  and  the 
agony  it  brought  in  its  train. 

Whatever  may  have  been  Carl's  faults,  he  was 
certainly  blameless  in  SO'  far  as  this  doubt  was  con- 
cerned. But  for  his  philosophy  in  later  years  we 
must  hold  him  wholly  responsible,  and  that  phi- 
losophy received  its  first  impulse  on  this  night  in  the 
last  quarter  of  the  nineteenth  century  in  a  small  in- 
land town  in  Michigan. 


CHAPTER  III 

We  will  not  weary  our  readers  with  a  critical  ex- 
amination of  Carl's  studies  during  the  next  few  years. 
The  anxious  question,  returning  again  and  again  in 
spite  of  his  efforts  to  crowd  it  out,  caused  him  to 
study  more  diligently  than  ever  his  Bible  and  many 
commentaries  thereon.  He  read  the  Good  Book 
through  from  cover  to  cover.  He  studied  ancient 
history  with  a  view  of  proving  every  step  of  the  Bib- 
lical narrative.  He  prayed  in  agony  of  spirit;  he 
sought  the  counsel  of  his  teachers  and  pastor.  To 
the  latter  he  told  of  all  his  strivings,  and  of  this 
doubt  that  he  could  not  master;  and  the  pastor — 
a  simple,  good  man,  but  not  one  of  deep  learning, 
and  of  a  decidedly  superficial  understanding  of 
child  nature — had  placed  his  hand  on  Carl's  head 
and  said,  "Oh,  you'll  come  out  all  right.  Just  keep 
on  praying  and  striving,  and  don't  think  of  anything 
but  that  God  is  good  and  Christ  reigns,  and  you'll 
outgrow  your  doubts.  I  confess  I  don't  exactly  un- 
derstand just  what  God  means  by  disciplining  you  in 
this  way,  but  He  knows,  and  all  that  I  can  do  is  to 
pray  with  you."  How  prone  many  Christians  are, 
when  they  have  a  problem  to  solve  that  is  beyond 
them,  to  lay  all  of  the  blame  on  God,  instead  of 
working  with  Him  for  the  glory  of  both  God  and 
man ! 

Carl  was  not  one  of  the  kind  to  shirk  any  responsi- 
bility. He  believed  that  he  was  himself  at  fault,  and 
as  he  could  get  no  comfort  nor  light  from  those  about 
him,  he  redoubled  his  efforts  to  find  truth  for  him- 
self. Hitherto  he  had  considered  it  a  sin  to  so  much 


UNCLE  CARL  35 

as  glance  between  the  covers  of  an  infidel  book.  But 
now,  having  exhausted  all  the  literature  at  his  com- 
mand in  favor  of  the  gospels,  without  resolving  his 
doubts,  he  sought  the  other  side  of  the  question ;  and 
during  his  leisure  hours  Payne  and  Voltaire  were 
made  to  feed  his  questioning  mind;  and  many  were 
the  hours  and  days  of  mental  agony  that  he  passed 
in  his  struggle  for  light.  Unsatisfactory  it  all  was. 
Truth  ever  seemed  to  elude  his  grasp.  His  close 
application  was  undermining  his  health,  while  his 
faith  in  the  Christian  religion  steadily  grew  weaker 
and  weaker.  Not  but  that  he  believed  that  God  ex- 
isted— oh,  no !  he  was  sure  of  that.  But  he  doubted 
whether  God  would  directly  intervene  in  the  affairs 
of  an  individual;  whether  he  listened  to  prayer;  and 
he  could  not  pray  now  as  in  the  other  days,  because 
he  thought  that  if  God  really  was  all  that  he  had  for- 
merly believed  Him  to  be,  He  must  have  the  whole 
heart  or  none;  and  Carl  was  uncertain  in  his  own 
heart  as  to  the  right  course,  save  in  this  one  particu- 
lar— he  must  be  perfectly  truthful  in  every  thought. 
His  honor  must  be  his  religion  until  he  could  again 
see  God  as  he  still  felt  He  must  be. 

For  many  years  Carl  had  been  subject  to  neu- 
ralgia, although,  with  a  pride  akin  to  that  of  the 
stoics,  he  had  kept  the  pain  to  himself.  Latterly,  ag- 
gravated no  doubt  by  his  use  of  the  midnight  oil,  the 
pain  had  become  so  intense  as  to  cause  him  to  fear 
for  his  reason,  if  not  for  life.  He  was  ignorant  of 
the  nature  of  his  trouble,  but  still  his  pride  would 
not  allow  him  to  admit  to  any  one  that  he  was  not 
perfectly  well.  Eventually  the  pain  became  so  great 
that  nature  succumbed  and  he  would  faint  under  the 
strain.  But  still  he  kept  it  to  himself;  and  now,  be- 
lieving in  his  ignorance  that  he  had  some  fatal  dis- 


36  UNCLE  CARL 

ease,  he  studied  the  harder  to  resolve  into  a  cer- 
tainty the  great  uncertainty  of  his  religious  thoughts. 

He  would  not  hint  to  his  family  the  fearful  straits 
in  which  he  found  himself,  both  mentally  and  physi- 
cally; for  he  believed,  what  he  had  many  times 
been  told,  that  he  was  a  great  burden  to  them;  and 
he  felt  that  he  would  get  no  sympathy  from  them, 
although  they  might  send  him  to  a  doctor;  and  he 
knew  that  they  would  only  profess  great  horror  at 
his  back-sliding  in  religion,  without  in  any  way  try- 
ing to  help  him  in  his  mental  conflicts.  And  so  he 
struggled  on,  and — with,  as  he  thought,  one  foot  in 
the  grave — he  built  for  himself  a  rock  upon  which  to 
stand  during  the  remainder  of  his  life.  Christ  be- 
came to  him  simply  a  man — a  pure,  noble,  heroic 
man.  A  man  to  love  for  his  purity  of  life  and  his 
sympathy  for  mankind,  but  still  only  a  man.  One 
who,  drinking  deeply  of  the  fountain  of  Truth  and 
Love,  seemed  to  have  reached  almost  superhuman 
spiritual  beauty,  but  yet  was  no  more  divine  than 
the  rest  of  the  human  family. 

We  do  not  know  of  a  greater  bravery  than  that 
shown  by  Carl  Englewood  when,  at  last,  after  having 
studied  and  thought  and  striven  for  the  true  light  for 
many  weary  months,  he  sat  down  to  map  out  his 
creed:  when  he,  for  conscience's  sake,  cast  aside  the 
belief  of  a  life-time,  endeared  to  him  by  many  asso- 
ciations of  the  past,  the  source  of  strength  and  com- 
fort in  times  of  need;  laid  aside  the  certainty  he  had 
thought  true  for  the  uncertainty  of  that  which  he 
only  hoped  for;  the  beauties  of  the  Christian  Re- 
deemer, with  all  the  rich  promises  of  eternity,  for 
the  beauties  of  the  Man  Christ,  with  only  a  hope  of 
immortality  and  consciousness  of  his  own  honor  to 
sustain  him — to  do  all  this  at  a  time  when  it  seemed 


UNCLE  CARL  37 

to  him  that  his  physical  trouble  must  soon  bring  him 
face  to  face  with  the  eternal  Power.  And  not  only 
that,  but  he  knew  also  that  he  was  putting  himself 
outside  of  the  pale  of  society  as  he  had  known  it. 
Henceforth  he  knew  that  in  a  measure  he  would  be 
ostracised;  that  when  his  beliefs  were  known  his  old 
playmates  would  shun  him ;  he  would  be  pointed  out 
as  an  infidel  and  be  scorned  by  those  who  in  the  past 
had  called  him  "friend."  Yet,  so  strong  was  his 
hatred  of  hypocrisy,  so  great  his  love  for  truth  in 
the  smallest  acts  of  life,  that  he  preferred  all  of  this 
to  the  alternative  of  deliberately  blinding  himself  to 
himself  and  to  God.  And  he  established  two  mot- 
toes, each  of  which  he  should  follow  through  life — 
"Sincerity  with  himself,"  and  "Fidelity  to  his  con- 
victions." He  hoped  for  an  intelligent  immortality, 
but  his  life  here  was  not  to  be  guided  in  any  measure 
by  that  hope.  An  immortality  that  he  was  sure  of, 
however,  was  based  on  the  principle  that  the  influ- 
ence of  a  thing  that  has  once  been  can  never  die. 
Although  it  may  change  form  until  its  original  in- 
dividuality is  lost,  its  effects  are  nevertheless  eternal. 
On  this  knowledge  of  immortality  he  would  build 
his  life;  and  he  would  so  act  that  the  influence  of 
his  life  would  tend  to  the  nourishment  of  the  beau- 
tiful flowers  of  honor,  and  virtue,  and  truth.  His 
comfort  would  be  that  he  had  done  what  he  could 
to  lessen  evil  and  to  advance  the  glorious  cause  of 
the  pure  and  holy.  He  could  not  believe  that,  if 
God  should  act  directly  with  him,  He  would  blame 
or  punish  him  for  being  true  to  his  conscience ;  and  he 
rested  his  creed  here.  He  had  solved  the  problem 
as  best  he  could,  and  would  never  take  it  up  again 
unless  such  light  should  come  to  him  in  his  future 
life  as  would  cause  him  to  doubt  whether  he  had 


38  UNCLE  CARL 

solved  it  right.  Henceforth  his  strength  must  come 
from  himself  alone.  Carl  now  arranged  other 
studies,  taking  up  the  philosophies  of  Comte  and 
Spencer,  of  Darwin,  of  Huxley,  and  of  Haeckel;  and 
while  not  neglecting  his  other  work  and  duties  of  life, 
passed  his  spare  time  in  building  up  and  strengthen- 
ing an  intellect  of  keener  vision  than  is  usual  with 
boys  of  his  age.  He  did  not  "hide  his  light  under 
a  bushel" ;  and  although  he  did  not  often  enter  into 
religious  discussions,  yet  he  insisted  that  all  with 
whom  he  associated  should  understand  where  he 
stood  on  such  matters;  and  he  bore  their  taunts 
and  jeers  and  scorn  bravely,  until  at  length,  his  fa- 
ther, thinking  his  business  would  be  injured  by  his 
presence,  suggested  that  he  had  better  find  work  else- 
where. 

After  casting  about  him  he  secured  a  position  in 
a  little  town  in  the  backwoods  of  Wisconsin,  and 
closed  forever  the  first  chapter  of  his  boyhood. 

Of  the  members  of  Carl's  family  we  shall  prob- 
ably see  no  more;  hence  we  will  pass  them  briefly  in 
review.  They  lived  on  in  the  same  "respectability" 
for  many  years.  Never  very  wealthy  and  sometimes 
pressed  for  ready  cash,  they  scrupled  not  to  call  on 
Carl  for  assistance,  and  as  he  prospered  fairly  well 
he  was  always  ready  to  share  with  them.  They 
never  showed  gratitude  to  him,  evidently  thinking 
that  so  black  a  sheep  was  not  entitled  to  thanks. 
But,  on  the  contrary,  on  many  occasions  they  would 
speak  sadly  to  their  friends  of  his  infidelity  and  the 
sorrow  he  caused  them.  Carl  never  sought  them; 
he  knew  but  too  well  that  there  would  never  be  any 
sympathy  between  them  and  himself,  and  he  pre- 
ferred to  live  alone;  helping  when  he  could,  but 
desiring  no  associations  with  those  he  could  not  trust. 


UNCLE  CARL  39 

They  wronged  him  many  times,  even  to  the  extent  of 
direct  dishonesty;  but  he  chose  to  let  it  pass,  and  they 
were  never  allowed  to  suffer  when  he  could  help  it. 
On  two  or  three  occasions  he  saw  them  when  circum- 
stances rendered  it  necessary,  but  with  these  excep- 
tions their  paths  in  life  were  ever  divergent  from  his 
own.  We  gladly  bid  them  farewell. 

Carl's  work  now  left  him  ample  leisure  for  the 
pursuit  of  his  studies,  and  he  rapidly  developed  a 
keen  understanding  of  many  of  the  deeper  branches 
of  science  and  philosophy;  his  aim  being  a  far- 
reaching  philosophy  which  should  embrace  not  only 
the  material  worlds  and  the  mysterious  laws  govern- 
ing them,  but  which  would  also  give  light  on  the 
social  problems  and  the  duties  of  man. 

He  mingled  freely  with  many  classes  of  men ;  and 
his  intelligence  and  readiness  to  help,  as  well  as  an 
innate  nobility  of  character,  which  enforced  a  per- 
fect faith  in  him  as  it  shone  through  his  clear  eyes 
and  expressive,  sympathetic  face,  was  an  "open 
sesame"  to  him  everywhere.  His  studies,  both  of 
books  and  men,  during  his  years  here  rounded  out 
his  character  and  established  him  in  a  work  in  life 
that  should  end  only  with  the  hail  of  the  Grim  Oars- 
man. 

We  will  pass  over  the  next  few  years  of  his  life, 
they  being  only  the  years  of  preparation,  of  patient 
plodding;  and  our  purpose  is  rather  to  record  the 
results  of  his  early  experiences  than  the  events  of  a 
somewhat  monotonous  life  in  the  backwoods.  Two 
things  we  may,  however,  mention,  as  each  in  after 
years  played  an  important  part  in  his  career. 

During  his  studies  he  chanced  to  run  across  a  work 
on  hypnotism;  and  though  somewhat  interested  in  it 
at  the  time,  he  laid  it  aside  thinking  to  take  it  up 


40  UNCLE  CARL 

again  later  and  investigate  the  phenomenon  more 
thoroughly.  One  sleepy  summer  afternoon  as  he 
sat  in  his  office,  having  nothing  special  to  do,  he  fell 
into  a  brown  study  over  some  question  that  interested 
him.  In  front  of  him,  stretched  out  on  the  floor, 
lay  a  large  Newfoundland  dog,  a  special  pet  of 
Carl's,  who  lavished  on  the  dumb  brute  a  strong  af- 
fection. After  a  time  he  was  roused  by  the  strange 
action  of  the  animal.  His  eyes  were  fixed  on  Carl's 
with  an  almost  human  expression,  his  whole  body 
seemed  uneasily  rigid,  so  to  speak,  and  he  uttered  a 
low  whimpering  whine.  Carl  had  been  unconsciously 
looking  very  steadily  at  the  dog,  and  as  he  noticed 
his  strange  behavior  the  thought  came  to  him  sud- 
denly, "I  wonder  if  I  have  hypnotized  him?"  Rising 
slowly  and  keeping  his  eyes  fastened  on  the  eyes  of 
the  animal,  he  moved  his  hand  back  and  forth,  the 
dog  following  every  movement.  Without  speaking 
a  word  Carl  then  moved  toward  a  long  table,  the 
dog  still  following,  and  at  a  motion  leaping  atop, 
and  in  the  same  manner  was  led  to  the  end  and  back 
again,  and  leaped  to  the  floor.  Now,  whether  the 
jar  of  striking  the  floor  caused  a  physical  change,  or 
whether  it  was  that  the  intent  gaze  of  both  dog  and 
man  was  broken  at  that  instant,  we  do  not  know; 
but  the  moment  the  dog  struck  the  floor  he  scurried 
through  the  doorway  with  his  tail  between  his  legs, 
and  ran  yelping  down  the  street;  and  it  was  many  a 
day  before  he  was  seen  again  in  that  neighborhood. 
This  was  interesting  to  Carl,  and  he  proceeded  to 
investigate  more  thoroughly  this  strange  subject.  He 
found  upon  investigation  that  he  possessed  in  a 
marked  degree  that  mysterious  power  called  animal 
magnetism;  and  he  proceeded  to  experiment  until  he 
had  so  far  developed  it  that  he  could  put  in  the  som- 


UNCLE  CARL  41 

nolent  state  a  full-grown  man.  At  the  same  time  he 
learned  that  he  also  developed  the  telepathic  vision 
in  a  marked  degree.  As  he  studied  this  wonderful 
thing,  however,  he  became  convinced  that  its  devel- 
opment must  be  a  terrible  temptation  to  its  pos- 
sessor— too  great  a  temptation,  he  feared,  for  him 
to  withstand;  and  as  he  was  resolved  to  live  a  pure 
and  upright  life,  and  as  he  had  been  developing  this 
power  out  of  curiosity  without  other  object  in  view, 
he  concluded  that  he  had  better  drop  it,  and  return 
to  more  profitable  and  less  dangerous  studies.  He 
therefore  laid  all  books  bearing  on  this  subject  aside, 
and  seldom  glanced  at  them  again;  nor  did  he  seek 
to  gain  control  over  any  one  by  such  means. 

The  other  thing  we  would  mention  was  his  literary 
work.  Carl  had  written  a  number  of  articles  for 
publication  and  some  of  them  were  accepted.  One 
of  them,  a  simple  little  article  on  the  characteristics 
of  a  backwoods  life,  had  chanced  beneath  the  eye 
of  the  editor  of  a  New  York  daily.  He  wrote  to 
Carl  for  other  articles,  and  in  time  offered  him  a  po- 
sition as  special  correspondent.  Carl  accepted,  and 
after  the  time  for  which  he  had  been  previously  en- 
gaged had  expired,  entered  at  once  on  his  duties; 
his  work  being  to  travel  from  place  to  place  as  he 
was  ordered,  and  to  write  of  peoples,  customs,  char- 
acteristics, etc.,  for  publication.  It  was  an  excel- 
lent school  for  him,  and  he  developed  a  peculiar  fit- 
ness for  literary  work  that  proved  eventually  of  great 
profit  in  more  ways  than  one.  It  was  during  a  resi- 
dence in  a  small  village  in  Pennsylvania,  whither  he 
had  been  sent  to  investigate  a  strike  in  the  coal  re- 
gions, that  he  had  first  met  Irene  Denton.  Her  fa- 
ther, a  devout  Presbyterian  minister,  had  become 
interested  in  him  and  invited  him  to  his  home.  Carl, 


42  UNCLE  CARL 

however,  scorning  to  sail  under  false  colors,  told  Mr. 
Denton  frankly  his  position  in  religious  matters,  and 
so  interested  him  that  he  again  urged  him  to  call. 
The  acquaintance  ripened  into  a  strong,  cordial 
friendship,  based  on  mutual  respect;  and,  becoming 
a  constant  visitor  with  the  minister's  family,  a  love 
developed  between  Irene  and  Carl  that  resulted 
finally  in  their  engagement.  Mrs.  and  Mr.  Denton, 
although  regretting  deeply  Carl's  defection  from  the 
church,  yet  felt  such  a  strong  belief  in  him  that  they 
willingly  trusted  to  him  their  only  daughter.  His 
strength,  his  purity  of  thought,  his  adherence  to 
duty  and  love  of  truth,  were  characteristics  that  made 
Carl  a  man  to  be  loved  and  trusted  at  all  times;  and 
Mr.  Denton  felt  that  Irene  would  be  safer  in  his 
care  than  in  that  of  many  of  the  members  of  the 
church.  They  knew  Irene's  faith  was  strong  and 
sure,  and  they  hoped  that  she  would  be  able  to  draw 
his  dear  soul  into  the  fold. 

How  the  engagement  terminated  our  first  chapter 
has  told  the  reader. 

And  now  we  find  Carl,  at  the  age  of  twenty-four, 
stronger  of  character  than  many  men  of  twice  his 
years;  purer  of  thought  than  the  average  man; 
higher  of  purpose  than  the  seeker  after  worldly 
honors;  steadfast  and  patient  in  working  out  the 
stern  problems  of  life.  He  was  starting  westward 
to  again  take  up  his  duties,  carrying  with  him  a  deep 
sorrow,  yet  so  mixed  with  the  joy  of  having  been 
loved  by  a  pure  heart  that  even  his  anguish  was  dear 
to  him.  And  over  all  his  future  life  the  sweet  influ- 
ence of  his  bride  in  death  shall  hover  and  shall  cause 
beautiful  flowers  to  grow  in  his  pathway,  render  holy 
his  whole  lifework,  and  nourish  anew  the  hope  in  his 
heart  that  he  shall  ever  cherish  until  he  shall  meet 
her  "At  the  Gate." 


CHAPTER  IV 

In  the  rotunda  of  a  hotel  in  the  city  of  Chicago, 
a  few  weeks  after  the  departure  of  Carl  Englewood 
from  the  home  of  his  dead,  a  company  of  a  half 
dozen  commercial  travelers  were  seated  in  a  social 
circle,  and  from  the  loud  expressions  of  merriment 
and  an  occasional  word  more  emphatic  than  usual  it 
might  be  gathered  that  they  were  "telling  stories" ; 
and  as  is  too  apt  to  be  the  case  when  men  of  the 
world  of  this  class  get  together,  it  was  evident  that 
the  stories  were  not  of  such  a  nature  as  would  be 
acceptable  if  related  in  the  company  of  their  mothers 
and  sisters.  Commercial  travelers  as  a  class  we  have 
found  to  be  keen,  bright  business  men,  and  big- 
hearted,  jovial  friends.  But  we  have  also  found 
that  the  majority  of  them  are  inclined  toward  vul- 
garity ;  and  we  certainly  question  the  gentlemanliness 
of  a  person  who  would  habitually  relate  stories  for 
the  mere  purpose  of  making  fun,  that  would  cause 
a  blush  to  mantle  the  cheek  of  a  lady  if  told  in  her 
presence. 

With  these  men  sat  a  tall,  dignified  person, 
evidently  a  professional  man.  A  broad,  fair  brow; 
keen,  dark  eyes;  aquiline  nose  and  firm,  well-shaped 
mouth  and  chin  denoted  a  man  of  intellect  and  will. 
He  had  not  at  first  taken  a  very  enthusiastic  part  in 
the  conversation,  but  gradually  he  began  to  join  in 
the  laughs  raised  by  the  stories  and  bright  sallies, 
eventually  telling  one  or  two  anecdotes  of  the  class 
passing  current  as  "humorous"  with  these  men. 
While  in  the  midst  of  one  of  these  unsavory  yarns 
he  chanced  to  turn  just  in  time  to  meet  the  gaze  of  a 


44  UNCLE  CARL 

pair  of  sad  blue  eyes  from  one  who  had  arrived  but 
a  few  moments  before,  and  who  was  evidently  wait- 
ing for  the  story  to  be  finished  before  speaking.  A 
flush  of  shame  mantled  the  story-teller's  cheek  as  he 
recognized  the  newcomer,  and  he  hurriedly  finished 
his  tale  and,  while  the  others  were  laughing  at  the 
so-called  "point,"  extended  his  hand  in  greeting. 
The  newcomer  was  a  man  rather  above  medium 
height,  of  somewhat  thin  physique,  with  clean-cut, 
intelligent  features,  expressive  blue  eyes,  and  brown 
mustache  and  beard.  The  expression  of  his  face  was 
sad,  yet  very  kindly;  a  world  of  benevolent  sorrow 
seemed  written  there.  Indeed,  his  whole  bearing 
seemed  to  lead  one  involuntarily  to  a  fleeting  memory 
of  the  Man  of  Sorrows. 

"How  do  you  do,  Mr.  Courtright?"  said  he,  as  he 
clasped  the  other's  hand.  "I  have  been  in  town  but 
an  hour  and  was  told  that  I  would  find  you  here." 

"Englewood,  I'm  glad  to  see  you,"  said  Mr. 
Courtright,  "though  I  hardly  expected  you  so  soon." 

The  company  having  had  their  laugh,  turned  to 
Mr.  Courtright,  and  noticing  the  new  arrival  asked 
for  an  introduction,  and  invited  him  to  join  the  circle. 
Carl  Englewood  acknowledged  the  introduction,  but 
pleaded  his  need  of  rest,  having  just  arrived  after  a 
long  journey,  as  a  reason  for  not  remaining  with 
them. 

"I  wished,"  said  he,  "to  greet  Mr.  Courtright, 
that  he  might  know  of  my  arrival.  But,  having 
listened  to  one  of  your  stories,  I'm  afraid  that  I 
would  be  an  interloper  here.  It  reminded  me  of  art 
anecdote  told  of  a  certain  gentleman's  first  trip  over 
the  ocean." 

"Let's  have  it,"  said  all;  "the  more  stories  the 
merrier." 


UNCLE  CARL  45 

"I'm  afraid  my  stories  wouldn't  suit  you,"  said 
Englewood,  with  a  faint  smile. 

"Oh,  we  are  not  afraid  of  that,"  said  one  corpu- 
lent little  fellow."  A  friend  of  Courtright's  couldn't 
tell  anything  but  the  right  stuff — eh,  pal?"  and  he 
gave  Courtright,  who  drew  back  shamefacedly,  a 
resounding  thwack  on  the  shoulder. 

"Well,  I'll  tell  you  how  that  story  affected  me," 
said  Englewood  cheerily;  "though  the  one  I'll  tell 
you  is  a  very  old  traveler,  I  having  heard  it  when  a 
boy.  It  seems  that  this  gentleman,  who  had  never 
before  experienced  the  peculiar  thrills  that  old  Nep- 
tune causes  to  agitate  the  internal  machinery  of  his 
apprentices,  started  for  the  old  country  in  company 
with  a  boon  companion.  As  the  good  ship  passed 
out  of  sight  of  land,  the  two  were  sitting  under  the 
deck  awning,  talking  of  their  plans  for  the  future 
and  the  trips  they  desired  to  make.  Our  friend  had 
proceeded  just  far  enough  in  expressing  one  of  his 
desires  to  say,  'I  wish — ,'  when  he  suddenly  clapped 
his  hand  over  his  mouth  and  started  for  the  ship's 
side.  His  companion,  realizing  his  condition,  fol- 
lowed with  a  smile  and  asked,  as  the  poor  fellow 
wrestled  with  his  woe,  and  vest  buttons,  and  dinner, 
'What  is  it  you  wish,  John?'  'Oh!'  said  John,  'Oh, 
dear!  I  wish  I  was  in  E — u — rope.'  '  And  Engle- 
wood emphasized  the  last  word  in  the  manner  usual 
with  those  who  cast  their  bread  upon  the  waters  when 
under  the  benign  influence  of  sea-sickness,  adding 
quietly,  "I  confess  that  the  story  I  heard  aroused  in 
me  for  a  moment  the  same  wish  that  John  had." 

Without  waiting  for  a  retort,  he  turned  to  Court- 
right  with  the  remark,  "By  the  way,  speaking  of 
traveling,  do  you  remember  how  interested  we  were 
at  the  office  over  your  description  of  your  trip  in 


46  UNCLE  CARL 

Switzerland?  I'm  sure  that  these  gentlemen  would 
enjoy  it  as  much  as  we  did.  Tell  us  about  it,  will 
you?" 

The  gentlemen  expressing  a  desire  to  hear,  and 
Courtright  being  a  good  talker,  the  little  circle  were 
soon  engaged  in  relations  of  travels  and  experiences, 
interesting  and  instructive;  and  Englewood  soon 
after  leaving  them,  it  is  to  be  hoped  that  they  passed 
a  more  profitable  as  well  as  more  pleasant  hour  after 
than  before  he  preached  his  little  sermon.  Indeed, 
one  of  them  took  Courtright's  hand  as  the  party 
broke  up,  and  said,  "I,  for  one,  thank  you  heartily, 
Courtright,  for  your  very  interesting  talk.  By  the 
way,  who  is  that  Mr.  Englewood?  Is  he  a 
preacher?" 

"No,"  said  Courtright,  "he  is  a  traveling  corre- 
spondent for  a  New  York  daily  paper;  and  one  of 
the  noblest  men  I  ever  knew." 

"A  very  straight-laced  chap,  isn't  he?" 

"Well,  yes,"  replied  Courtright,  "he  is  'straight- 
laced,'  as  you  call  it;  that  is,  I  believe  him  to  be 
pure-minded  and  very  earnest;  and  yet  he  has  a  very 
keen  sense  of  humor;  but  he  abhors  vulgarity  in  all 
forms." 

"Well,"  said  the  man,  "he  certainly  called  me 
down  in  great  shape,  but  he  did  it  so  smoothly  that 
one  could  not  feel  offended  at  him;  in  fact,  I  didn't 
know  until  some  time  after  that  I  had  been  called 
down  at  all." 

"He  didn't  mean  to  call  us  down  exactly,"  said 
Courtright.  "But  he  has  a  faculty  of  making  men 
see  when  they  are  making  fools  of  themselves,  with- 
out giving  offense.  He  just  gives  a  man  something 
to  think  about  and  then  introduces  an  illustration  that 
clinches  it  without  one's  knowing  his  object." 


UNCLE  CARL  47 

"I  can  see  that.  Just  to  think  of  the  contrast 
between  the  trash  we  were  talking  and  the  subject 
he  introduced,  almost  makes  me  wish  I  was  in  Europe 
myself.  But  doesn't  he  get  tiresome  with  his 
preaching?" 

'Tiresome,'  no!  I'm  not  very  intimate  with 
him,  but  I  have  never  seen  a  man  who  more  thor- 
oughly enjoys  fun  and  nonsense  in  its  proper  place 
than  Carl  Englewood.  But  it  must  be  clean  and 
pure ;  and  he  seems  never  to  lose  his  dignity.  But  I 
never  knew  him  to  'preach'  as  you  call  it.  It  is  his 
manner  and  actions  that  talk  more  than  what  he 
says." 

"I  wish  I  could  see  more  of  him;  there's 
something  about  him  that  I  like.  I  seem  to  feel 
more  like  a  man  to  have  met  him.  But  I  declare  I 
shouldn't  know  how  to  act  alone  with  him,  and  that's 
admitting  a  good  deal  for  a  commercial  traveler  of 
thirty  years'  experience." 

"I  felt  the  same  way,"  said  Courtright,  "when  I 
first  met  him ;  and  yet,  I  never  knew  a  more  cheerful, 
approachable  man.  He  is  very  simple  and  easy  in 
manner,  and  makes  one  feel  at  home,  as  it  were,  when 
with  him;  but  at  the  same  time  he  avoids  all  famil- 
iarity. He's  a  puzzle  to  me  in  some  ways,  but  I 
believe  him  to  be  a  deep  as  well  as  a  good  man. 
Well,  good-night,  I  must  be  off.  By  the  way,  are 
you  boys  going  on  that  lark  you  spoke  of  to-night?" 

"Naw!  No  lark  for  me  to-night.  That  fellow 
has  made  me  want  to  be  respectable  for  once.  I'm 
going  to  bed.  So-long!" 

The  next  morning,  as  Mr.  Courtright  sat  busily 
conning  his  mail  in  his  law  office,  the  door  opened 
and  with  a  cheery  "Good-morning,"  Carl  Engle- 
wood entered.  "How  do  you  do,  Mr.  Englewood," 


48  UNCLE  CARL 

said  the  lawyer;  "I'm  more  than  glad  to  see  you. 
Sit  down  and  have  a  cigar;  I'll  just  finish  my  mail 
and  then  I'm  at  your  service." 

Carl  accepted  the  proffered  Havana,  and  while 
Courtright  resumed  his  occupation  seated  himself 
with  the  morning  paper.  The  past  few  weeks  had 
borne  hardly  on  our  friend.  His  face,  never  full, 
was  thin  now  almost  to  emaciation;  his  eyes  had  a 
sad,  far-away  expression,  as  of  one  patiently  bearing 
heavy  sorrows.  His  high,  broad  forehead  showed 
deeper  lines  of  care.  Yet  his  step  was  as  firm,  his 
movements  as  decisive,  his  words  as  clear  and  to  the 
point  as  ever.  Courtright  had  not  heard  of  his  late 
loss.  Indeed,  save  a  card  notifying  him  that  he 
would  soon  arrive,  he  had  not  heard  from  him  in 
some  months;  and  although  they  had  had  numerous 
business  relations  in  the  past  and  bore  a  strong 
friendship  for  each  other,  neither  knew  much  of  the 
private  life  of  the  other;  though  Englewood  had 
frequently  visited  at  the  lawyer's  home,  and  was  a 
sworn  friend  and  ally  of  the  latter's  wife  in  many 
of  her  little  benevolent  schemes. 

As  Courtright,  having  finished  his  mail,  wheeled 
round  in  his  chair,  he  was  struck  with  the  change  in 
Englewood's  face  as  he  sat  now  with  his  arms  folded, 
the  paper  fallen  to  his  knees,  and  with  his  head 
bowed  and  eyes  gazing  sadly  out  of  the  window  at 
the  crowds  passing  below,  yet  obviously  taking  no 
note  of  them.  Courtright  watched  him  steadily  for 
a  few  moments,  and  then,  softly  crossing  to  his  side, 
clasped  his  hand  in  his  with  the  strong,  earnest 
pressure  of  true  friendship.  "What  is  it,  old  man? 
I  have  perhaps  no  right  to  pry  into  your  private 
affairs,  but  your  sad  expression  and  my  high  esteem 


UNCLE  CARL  49 

for  you  make  me  feel  that  I  want  to  cheer  you  up  a 
bit." 

Englewood  looked  into  his  friend's  face  and  saw 
there  a  truth  and  earnestness  that  is  all  too  rare  in 
this  rushing  age.  He  had  a  strong  faith  in  the  char- 
acter of  this  man.  Weak  he  knew  him  to  be  in  some 
ways — too  easily  led  by  boon  companions,  perhaps. 
But  he  believed  him  to  be  a  man  of  strict  honor  in 
business  affairs,  kind  of  heart,  and  of  a  high  order 
of  intellect.  Carl  was  much  alone  in  the  world; 
seldom  did  he  meet  with  those  with  whom  he  could 
converse  on  those  philosophical  topics  which  had 
been  the  major  portion  of  his  life  studies.  And 
more  seldom  was  it  that  he  met  a  man  who  could 
sympathize  with  him  in  his  peculiar  ideas  of  what 
constitutes  a  true  man.  Yes,  he  was  terribly  alone. 
It  was  not  that  he  lacked  friends,  for  one  had  but  to 
look  into  his  clear  eyes  and  feel  the  firm  pressure  of 
his  hand  to  feel  that  here  was  a  man  worthy  of  un- 
bounded trust.  And,  ever  since  he  could  remember, 
he  had  been  made  a  sort  of  safety-vault  for  the 
secrets,  a  tribunal  for  judgment  and  counsel,  and  a 
well  of  sympathy  for  the  sorrows  of  others.  But 
only  once  in  his  life  had  he  found  a  faithful,  under- 
standing heart  for  his  own  confidences;  and  that 
heart  was  now  far  away,  "Waiting  at  the  Gate  for 
him,"  and  oh!  how  he  did  long  at  times  to  open  his 
inner  self  to  a  friend.  Mr.  Courtright  was  a  man 
in  whom  he  had  great  confidence;  whom  he  could 
trust  in  all  worldly  matters.  Yet,  with  all  of  his 
intelligence  and  truth,  he  would  look  upon  Engle- 
wood's  endeavors  and  self-denials  as  far-fetched, 
finnicky  notions.  He  might  honor  him  for  his  per- 
severance in  what  he  thought  right,  but  he  would 
4 


50  UNCLE  CARL 

lack  the  finer  perception  and  the  fellow-feeling  to 
render  a  true  sympathy  possible.  And  Carl  could 
gain  no  comfort  by  speaking  of  his  inner  self  to  one 
who  from  his  very  nature  must  ever  remain  a 
stranger  to  its  essence.  Yet,  he  returned  Court- 
right's  pressure  and  felt  proud  of  his  respect. 

"I  thank  you,"  he  said;  "your  friendship  I  receive 
gratefully,  and  should  I  ever  need  assistance  or  cheer 
there  is  none  from  whom  I  would  more  gladly  receive 
it.  I  have  had  a  great  sorrow  since  I  saw  you  last, 
but  it  is  one  that  I  must  bear  alone.  I  think  it  is 
seldom  that  a  greater  sorrow  comes  to  a  man  than 
the  loss  of  the  loving  heart  of  his  bride  by  the  hand 
of  death ;  and  that  has  been  my  fate.  We  will  not 
speak  of  it  again,  please.  I  will  bear  it  well,  and  I 
speak  of  it  now  only  because  as  a  friend  you  feel 
some  interest  in  my  affairs.  I  am  here  now  on  busi- 
ness, and  if  you  have  the  time  to  spare  let  us  turn  to 
it.  I  must  be  off  again,  to-night  if  possible." 

"It  is  needless  to  say,  Englewood,"  said  Court- 
right,  "that  you  have  my  earnest  sympathy  in  your 
distress.  But  since  you  wish  it  I  will  not  grieve  you 
further  by  inquiring  particulars.  Only  let  me  say 
this :  I  like  you ;  I  respect  you ;  I  believe,  although 
I  comprehend  but  little  of  your  inner  life,  that  I 
could  love  you;  and  if  ever  you  should  need  such  a 
friend  as  I,  I  would  be  proud,  very  proud,  to  be  given 
the  right  to  prove  my  earnest  regard." 

"I  thank  you  again,  Courtright,"  said  Carl,  rising 
as  he  again  reached  out  to  his  friend;  and  with 
bowed  heads  and  clasped  hands  the  two  sealed  the 
compact  of  a  friendship  that  was  never  broken. 

"And  now  to  business,"  said  Courtright,  after  a 
pause.  "In  what  can  I  serve  you?" 

Drawing   up    to   the   table   and   producing   some 


UNCLE  CARL  51 

papers  from  his  pocket  Englewood  explained  his 
business.  "Two  weeks  ago,"  said  he,  "a  friend  of 

mine,  Mr.  A.  J.  Cramer,  died  in  G T , 

Michigan.  Alone  in  the  world,  save  for  a  daughter 
of  twelve  years,  he  left  a  somewhat  valuable  property 
in  the  hands  of  three  trustees,  of  whom  I  am  one,  to 
be  held  in  trust  and  increased  by  safe  investment  until 
the  girl  is  twenty-one.  He  wished  me  to  act  as 
guardian  for  the  child,  but  at  the  same  time  desired 
me  to  take  charge  of,  and  complete  in  his  name,  a 
literary  work  of  some  magnitude  that  he  had  been 
working  on  for  several  years;  destined,  he  thought, 
to  be  of  great  value  to  mankind.  There  are  certain 
things  involved  in  this  work  that  will  render  a  some- 
what extensive  travel  necessary,  as  I  must  verify  each 
step.  I  have,  therefore,  made  arrangements  with 

the  editors  of  the  New  York to  continue  my 

work  with  them  from  certain  western  points,  and 
shall  devote  some  three  years  to  the  Northwest. 
Eventually  I  shall,  if  possible,  cross  the  water  to 
verify  certain  statements  of  the  truth  of  which  I  am 
uncertain.  The  girl,  Harriet,  is  in  delicate  health; 
and  I  have  arranged  that  she  go  South  for  a  time 
with  a  very  dear  friend  of  my  youthful  days,  a  Mrs. 
Hazelton,  my  old  Sabbath-school  teacher,  in  whom  I 
have  unbounded  confidence. 

"But  now,  what  I  want  of  you  is  to  act  for  me  in 
my  position  as  trustee  for  the  estate.  To  tell  the 
truth,  one  of  the  men  associated  with  me,  I  have 
reason  to  believe,  will  need  watching;  and  the  other 
is  not  a  keen  business  man." 

"What  is  the  estate  valued  at?"  asked  Courtright. 

"About  $150,000,"  replied  Carl.  "Chiefly  in 
real  estate  in  Michigan,  and  a  bank  deposit  of  some 


52  UNCLE  CARL 

$15,000;  this  latter  to  be  used  for  the  girl's  mainte- 
nance during  her  minority." 

"Who  are  the  other  trustees?  Do  I  know  them?" 
inquired  Courtright. 

"J.  F.  Estes,  a  bookkeeper  for  a  Detroit  depart- 
ment store,  and  John  Stanhope,  of  Kaloma, 
Michigan." 

"John  Stanhope!"  exclaimed  Courtright.  "You 
don't  mean  the  man  who  tried  to  steal  a  seat  in  the 
Senate  two  years  ago?" 

"I  don't  know,  I  am  sure.  He  is  a  professional 
politician,  I  believe,  but  I  have  not  learned  his  ante- 
cedents. I  have  met  him  but  once,  but  there  is  that 
about  him  that  causes  me  to  think  it  well  to  watch 
him  closely." 

"What  sort  of  a  looking  man  is  he?"  asked  Court- 
right. 

"Very  tall,  dark  complexion,  with  small,  shifty 
dark  eyes;  a  scar  as  of  a  knife  cut  on  the  left  cheek. 
He  is  rather  a  fine  appearing  man,  broad  shouldered 
and  commanding;  but  I  was  unable  to  catch  his  eye. 
I  don't  like  a  man  who  cannot  look  me  in  the  face 
when  talking  with  me." 

"I  believe  it's  the  same  man  I  know,"  said  Court- 
right.  "And  if  it  is  you  cannot  be  too  careful. 
What  are  these  papers?" 

"Merely  memoranda  of  the  estate,"  replied  Carl, 
"which  you  can  look  over  at  your  leisure.  Now  we 
three  trustees  are  to  meet  at  Kaloma  the  day  after 
to-morrow  to  arrange  details.  Of  course  we  cannot 
do  much  until  after  the  will  is  probated  and  we  are 
confirmed  in  our  office;  but  as  I  must  leave  as  soon 
as  possible  to  prosecute  my  other  work,  we  concluded 
to  map  out  our  duties  now,  as  there  is  no  one  to  con- 
test the  will  or  make  trouble  of  that  sort.  I  want 
you,  my  friend,  to  come  over  with  me.  I  confess 


UNCLE  CARL  53 

myself  very  incompetent  in  business  affairs  of  this 
sort,  and  you  can  see  that  everything  is  straight  and 
act  for  me  during  my  absence.  I  want  to  take  the 
boat  to-night." 

"I'll  try  to  arrange  my  business  so  as  to  get  away," 
said  Courtright;  "but  I  have  a  case  on  next  Mon- 
day so  I  will  have  to  return  as  soon  as  possible.  You 
may  depend  on  me,  however.  Where  do  you  dine? 
At  the  hotel?" 

"Yes,"  said  Carl,  "at  the  Palmer  House." 

"Well,  I'll  meet  you  there  about  noon.  Mean- 
while, you  will  excuse  me,  as  I  have  several  things  to 
see  to  if  I  am  to  get  away  with  you  to-night." 

"Very  well,  I'll  proceed  to  vacate  your  sanctum 
sanctorum,"  said  Carl,  rising  to  go.  Courtright  fol- 
lowed him  to  the  door,  and  as  he  shook  his  hand 
said: 

"Englewood,  I  want  to  thank  you  for  the  shower 
bath  you  gave  us  last  night.  Your  little  sermon  did 
more  than  one  man  good,  and  I  know  that  I  at  least 
will  profit  by  it." 

"Oh,  say  nothing  about  it,"  said  Carl.  "I  was 
perhaps  too1  presumptious ;  but  I  knew  that  you  were 
not  doing  yourself  justice,  and  I  just  thought  I'd 
give  you  a  little  reminder.  It  was  but  a  little  thing 
to  do  for  a  friend." 

"Aye,  it  was  but  a  little  thing,"  replied  Courtright, 
"but  it  was  more  effectual  than  an  outright  rebuke. 
I  never  felt  more  ashamed  of  myself  in  my  life. 
What  a  fellow  you  are!  I  don't  believe  there  is 
another  man  living  who'  could  have  done  as  you  did 
without  antagonizing  the  whole  crowd.  But,  do  you 
know,  they  rather  liked  you  for  it." 

"Well,  I'm  glad,"  said  Carl,  "that  I  did  a  little 
good.  I  felt  rather  out  of  place  though,  and  rather 
expected  to  be  sat  down  upon.  I'm  off.  Good-by." 


CHAPTER  V 

By  the  shores  of  Lake  Michigan  a  man  was  pacing 
up  and  down  the  veranda  of  a  small  summer  cottage. 
The  scene  was  beautiful  beyond  description,  as 
nature's  glories  always  are — they  may  be  felt,  but 
not  so  described  that  another  may  also  feel  them  in 
their  fullness.  The  blue  waters  lapped  the  sands 
with  their  ceaseless  murmur;  a  soft  breeze  rustled 
the  leaves  of  the  trees  surrounding  the  house;  from 
the  roof  of  the  cottage  came  the  soft  cooing  of  doves, 
and  away  in  the  distance  a  vessel  in  full  sail  broke 
the  monotony  of  the  broad  expanse  of  water. 
Everything  suggested  quiet,  drowsy  peace;  and  the 
only  discordant  element  in  the  whole  scene  was  the 
sullen  scowl  that  shadowed  the  face  of  John  Stan- 
hope as  he  strode  impatiently  to  and  fro. 

"Jenkins  is  late,"  he  muttered.  "I  wouldn't  have 
Englewood  and  his  cursed  lawyer  find  him  here  for 
a  good  deal.  It  is  easy  to  see  that  they  don't  place 
any  too  much  confidence  in  me;  but  it  will  take 
sharper  men  than  they  are  to  get  ahead  of  Jack  Stan- 
hope. I'll  have  a  slice  of  old  Cramer's  estate  in 
spite  of  them;  but  I  must  play  my  cards  well,  and 
it  wouldn't  do  for  them  to  meet  Jenkins  here.  Why 
the  D — 1  doesn't  the  old  viper  come ;  its  past —  Oh, 
there  he  is  now!" 

As  he  uttered  this  exclamation  a  small  rowboat 
rounded  a  little  promontory  that  stretched  out  into 
the  blue  waters  a  short  distance  down  the  beach. 
And,  as  it  touched  shore,  a  stumpy  little  man  leaped 
onto  the  sand,  and  drawing  the  boat  out  of  the  water 
shambled  toward  the  cottage.  It  needed  but  a 


UNCLE  CARL  55 

glance  to  understand  the  character  of  this  man.  A 
narrow,  sloping  forehead;  small,  deep  set,  fishy  eyes 
surrounded  by  inflamed  lids;  high  cheek  bones; 
heavy,  sensuous  mouth,  from  the  corners  of  which 
two  brown  streaks  bore  perennial  evidence  of  the 
filthy  tobacco  habit;  and  a  general  hang-dog  ex- 
pression of  face  and  physique  betokened  the  cringing 
satellite  of  a  villain  more  bold  than  himself.  A 
broad-brimmed  felt  hat,  a  suit  of  gray  clothing  much 
the  worse  for  wear  and  dirt,  and  a  large,  flaming  red 
necktie  hanging  loosely  over  a  soiled  shirt  front, 
composed  the  costume  of  a  man  who  was  the  instru- 
ment of  much  that  influences  the  fate  of  some  of  our 
friends  in  this  history. 

As  he  slouched  toward  Stanhope,  glancing  fur- 
tively about  him  and  from  time  to  time  ejecting  co- 
pious volumes  of  tobacco  juice  from  his  foul  mouth, 
he  was  a  disgusting  sight.  Even  Stanhope  felt  his 
gorge  rise  as  he  hailed  him. 

"Hello  there,  Jenkins!     You're  late,"  said  he. 

"Wull,  Mister  Stanhope,"  replied  Jenkins,  "whut 
ud  ye  have  me  do;  drop  into  the  arms  uv  that 
cussed  Marsac's  dep'ty,  'er  use  a  little  discretion  'n 
slip  round  um?" 

"What,"  said  Stanhope,  "is  Marsac  still  on  your 
trail?  I  thought  you  had  fixed  that  little  affair  of 
yours  safely." 

"Wull,  I  hevn't,"  growled  Jenkins;  "'nd  I  tell 
you  whut,  Mister  Stanhope,  I've  got  to  git  out  uv 

this  bloomin'  landscape  G d quick.  Them 

ducks  are  gettin'  too  close  fer  comfort,  'nd  I  do  like 
to  have  plenty  of  room  to  stretch  in." 

"That's  just  what  I  wanted  you  for  to-day,"  said 
Stanhope.  "I've  got  a  little  job  for  you  that  will 


5  6  UNCLE  CARL 

take  you  far  enough  away.  Got  anything  on  hand 
now  ?" 

"Naw !  bizniss  is  a  leetle  dull  in  my  line  jest  now," 
replied  the  man.  "What  you  got;  a  good  fat  job?" 

"That  depends  on  how  you  look  at  it.  If  you  do 
well  there  is  good  money  in  it  for  you.  Let's  go 
over  to  that  grove;  I  expect  a  couple  of  men  here 
every  minute,  and  I  wouldn't  have  them  see  your 
mug  here  for  a  good  deal,"  said  Stanhope  as  he 
walked  toward  a  little  clump  of  trees  a  short  distance 
away,  where  they  could  be  shielded  from  observation. 

"Humph!  'Shamed  uv  your  compiny,  be  you?" 
muttered  Jenkins  as  he  slouched  after  him.  "Wull, 

ye  hain't  near  so  d d  'shamed  uv  your  compiny  ez 

I  be  uv  mine." 

Stanhope  seated  himself  on  a  fallen  log,  and  light- 
ing a  cigar  offered  one  to  his  companion.  It  was 
refused  with  a  surly  gesture,  as,  pulling  a  short  black 
pipe  from  his  pocket,  which  he  filled  and  lighted, 
Jenkins  announced  his  readiness  to  hear  the  details 
of  the  "little  job." 

And  while  these  two  servants  of  Satan  are 
concocting  their  schemes  we  will  glance  at  our  friends 
Englewood  and  Courtright,  as,  sitting  on  the  veranda 
of  their  hotel  and  smoking  their  after-dinner  cigars, 
they  discussed  their  plans.  The  trustees  had  held 
their  meeting,  at  which  Courtright  was  present,  and 
all  business  had  been  satisfactorily  arranged  for  the 
present.  It  was  decided  that  Courtright  should  have 
full  power  to  act  for  his  friend  during  his  absence, 
subject  to  the  approval  of  the  court,  and  that  he 
should  be  the  legal  adviser  in  any  case.  Stanhope 
had  rather  objected  to  this,  but  yielded  to  the  wishes 
of  his  associate,  thinking  that  he  would  be  able  to 
outwit  them  later.  Little  could  be  done  until  the 


UNCLE  CARL  57 

probate  court  had  concluded  measuring  off  its  red 
tape;  and  Stanhope  had  no  doubt  but  that  he  would 
find  some  way  to  gild  his  pockets  during  the  years 
of  Hattie  Cramer's  minority. 

Hattie  was  now  at  Nashville,  Tennessee;  and 
Carl,  who  had  never  seen  her,  had  arranged  that  his 
old  Sabbath-school  teacher,  Mrs.  Hazelton,  nee 
Armstrong,  who  was  about  to  spend  some  time  in  the 
South,  should  stop  there  on  her  way  and  take  the 
girl  with  her  as  the  physician  had  recommended,  she 
being  in  delicate  health.  Englewood  felt  perfectly 
free  in  doing  this.  The  child  was  but  twelve  years 
old,  and  even  if  he  had  had  a  home  to  offer,  he  felt 
hardly  able  to  train  her  and  care  for  her  as  a  good 
woman  would.  Mrs.  Hazelton,  who  was  now  a 
widow,  childless  and  in  comfortable  circumstances, 
would,  he  knew,  be  a  true  friend  and  earnest  coun- 
selor. And  he  thought  that,  as  she  was  willing  to 
take  the  responsibility,  he  could  not  do  better  than 
to  place  the  child  in  her  care  until  such  time  as  he 
could  properly  assume  the  charge. 

"And  so  Stanhope  is  the  man  you  thought,  is  he?" 
asked  Carl  as  he  lighted  a  fresh  cigar. 

"Yes,"  replied  his  friend,  "and  he  is  a  man  that 
must  be  watched  closely.  I  don't  know  that  any 
crime  has  ever  been  brought  home  to  him,  but  he  has, 
to  say  the  least,  been  connected  with  some  very  shady 
transactions.  It  is  less  than  three  years  since  he  was 
indicted  for  attempted  bribery  of  the  State  Legisla- 
ture. But  the  matter  was  hushed  up  out  of  court. 
I  would  not  care  to  say  anything  against  him  in 
public,  because  I  have  no  absolute  knowledge  of  his 
operations,  and  I  might  be  doing  him  a  wrong.  But 
yet,  I  cannot  meet  the  man  without  feeling  that  a  ser- 
pent is  next  me." 


58  UNCLE  CARL 

"Well,  I  confess,"  said  Englewood,  "that  the  man 
does  not  impress  me  favorably.  However,  I  trust 
you  fully  in  these  business  matters,  and  I  rather  think 
that  it  will  take  a  sharper  man  than  Mr.  Stanhope 
to  get  ahead  of  us." 

"I'll  do  the  best  I  can,"  replied  Courtright,  "and 
will  keep  you  posted.  Of  course,  we  cannot  rely  for 
much  upon  Estes;  but  I  think  he  is  an  honest  man; 
and  then,  the  estate  is  in  such  shape  that  it  will  be 
hard  to  practice  any  swindling  schemes  in  regard  to 
it.  And  so  you  will  go  from  here  directly  West,  will 
you?" 

"Yes;  I  do  not  feel  that  I  should  waste  much  time 
in  carrying  out  the  wishes  of  my  old  friend.  I  am 
sorry  though,  that  I  cannot  see  my  ward  before  I  go; 
but  to  tell  the  truth  my  pocket-book  is  rather  flat  and 
P  have  hardly  enough  to  carry  me  through  as  it  is. 
No,  no,"  he  added  as  Courtright  turned  suddenly  to 
him,  "don't  offer  me  a  loan.  I  will  get  through  all 
right,  and  my  confidence  in  Mrs.  Hazelton  renders 
it  unnecessary  for  me  to  see  my  ward  at  this  time." 

"Carl  Englewood,"  said  Courtright,  "of  course, 
it's  none  of  my  business,  but  do  you  know,  I  think 
that  you  do  yourself  a  wrong  by  parting  so  freely 
with  your  dollars.  Charity  and  benevolence  are  all 
right  in  moderation;  but  you  do  more  than  your 
share.  You  should  be  comfortably  fixed  to-day, 
with  the  money  you  have  made,  but  you  have  given 
so  much  that — " 

"How  do  you  know  what  I've  done  with  my 
money?"  asked  Englewood  rather  gruffly. 

"Oh,  I  don't  know,  of  course,"  said  Courtright; 
"but  when  I  see — " 

"Well,  then,  don't  accuse  an  utterly  selfish  man 
with  spendthriftness,"  said  Carl. 


UNCLE  CARL  59 

" — a  poor  devil  of  a  beggar,"  continued  Court- 
right,  disregarding  the  interruption,  "to  whom  I  had 
the  day  before  given  a  dime,  snugly  ensconced  behind 
a  little  stock  of  confectionery,  and  hear  him  express 
gratitude  for  the  helpfulness  of  a  certain  tall  gentle- 
man of  my  acquaintance.  When  I  learn  of  flowers 
sent  to  the  sick;  of  books,  valuable  books,  to  more 
than  one  struggling  student;  of  wood  furnished; 
rents  paid,  and  a  hundred  other  acts  that  would  im- 
poverish a  somewhat  more  corpulent  purse  than 
yours,  I  have  a  right  to  think  that  you  give  more 
than  you  should." 

"Who  told  you  that  I  did  all  of  these  things?" 
asked  Carl. 

"No  one  accused  you  of  the  crime  directly,"  re- 
plied his  friend;  "but  it  is  very  easy  to  draw  infer- 
ences. When  I  see  a  weather-cock  pointing  north, 
I  am  quite  ready  to  believe  that  the  wind  comes  from 
that  direction.  And  when  I  see  men,  and  women, 
and  children  pointing  toward  you  with  gratitude  and 
hear  them  occasionally  speak  of  good  deeds  done — 
though  they  are  forbidden  to  tell  by  whom ;  when  I 
see  your  purse,  through  which  many  hard-earned  dol- 
lars have  passed,  almost  empty;  know  that  you 
abhor  the  vicious  pleasures  of  life;  that  you  spend 
but  little  on  yourself;  when  I  see  many  other  signs 
of  a  self-neglect  through  a  mistaken  sense  of  duty, 
it  is  not  difficult  to  understand  from  what  direction 
the  wind  comes  to  these  people  I  have  mentioned." 

"Oh,  pshaw !  I  admit  that  I  occasionally  give  a 
little,  when  I  am  sure  of  my  ground,"  said  Carl. 
"But  I  don't  hurt  myself  when  I  do.  I  can  get  along 
all  right,  and —  Blame  it!  let's  talk  about  some- 
thing else.  I  know  myself  better  than  you  do  or 


6o  UNCLE  CARL 

any  one  else.  I  am  selfish  enough,  as  you  will 
probably  find  out  some  day." 

"You  are  awfully  afraid  some  one  will  think  you 
are  a  good  man,  aren't  you?"  said  Courtright. 

"Well,  I  like  judgment,"  said  Englewood,  "but 
only  when  knowledge  precedes  it.  In  this  case  you 
don't  know  what  you  are  talking  about,  therefore 
you  are  an  unjust  judge;  and  as  I  am  not  on  trial 
with  you,  my  friend,  I  shall  not  turn  witness.  Just 
believe  if  you  can  that  I  mean  to  live  a  fairly  respect- 
able life  and  perhaps  accomplish  a  little  good  in  the 
world,  and  I  ask  no  more." 

"You'll  probably  get  a  good  deal  more  than  you 
ask,  then,"  replied  Courtright. 

"What  is  the  first  duty  of  man?"  asked  Carl 
abruptly,  after  a  pause.  "I  think  I'll  put  you 
through  your  catechism." 

"To  'glorify  God'  is  the  correct  answer,  I  believe," 
answered  Courtright,  with  a  smile. 

"Do  you  believe  that,  or  are  you  just  answering 
it  so  because  you  were  taught  it?"  asked  Englewood. 

"Well,  to  tell  the  truth,  I  never  thought  much 
about  it;  but  I  believe  that  that  is  as  good  an  answer 
as  I  could  manufacture,"  said  Courtright,  laughing. 

"Oh,  be  serious!"  said  Carl,  with  a  slight  frown. 
"You  have  been  criticising  me,  and  now  I  shall  turn 
about  and  do  the  same  by  you.  You  treat  religious 
matters  rather  too  flippantly.  I  am  not  going  to 
talk  religion  exactly;  but  when  you  speak  of  the 
church  catechism  as  if  it  were  a  something  manu- 
factured to  order,  instead  of  the  outgrowth  of  deep 
and  earnest  thought,  I  think  you  are  treating  too 
lightly  that  which  is  sacred  to  many.  We  may  dis- 
agree earnestly,  but  we  do  wrong  to  do  so  flippantly. 


UNCLE  CARL  61 

Neither  do  we  do  well  to  agree  flippantly.  So  again 
I  ask  you,  soberly,  'What  is  the  first  duty  of  man?'  ' 

A  something  of  dignified  earnestness  in  Engle- 
wood's  manner  and  tone  drove  the  smile  from  his 
friend's  face ;  and  looking  off  across  the  lake,  an  arm 
of  which  reaching  inward  for  a  few  miles  was  visible 
from  the  hotel,  he  thought  for  a  few  moments 
before  replying.  At  length  he  said: 

"Well,  I  cannot  conceive  of  a  better  answer. 
What  can  be  a  higher  duty  than  to  give  praise  to  the 
Creator,  to  worship  Him,  to  glorify  Him  in  all  ways. 
Without  Him  we  would  not  be;  all  that  we  have 
and  are  are  His;  and  I  would  say  with  all  earnest- 
ness, to  Him  be  all  the  praise  and  the  glory  forever." 

"And  yet,"  said  Carl,  "you  have  given  me  as  an 
answer  what  you  think  is  the  'highest*  duty,  while  my 
question  was  what  is  the  first  duty.  To  God  is  all 
of  the  glory  already;  our  praise  will  do  Him  no 
good,  though  I  do  not  presume  to  say  that  it  is  unac- 
ceptable to  Him.  The  Good  Book  seems  to  teach 
that  He  does  wish  it.  But  what  I  wish  to  get  at  is 
man's  first  duty." 

"I  think  I  will  have  to  refer  that  question  back  to 
you,"  said  Courtright.  "Perhaps  I  fail  to  catch  your 
drift.  What  do  you  hold  to  be  the  first  duty?" 

"Absolute  sincerity,"  answered  Carl,  "in  thought, 
in  word,  and  in  action.  I  hold  that  the  chief,  the 
highest  duty  of  man,  is  to  accomplish  the  greatest 
real  good  for  as  many  of  his  fellows  as  possible — 
that  God  is  best  glorified  in  this  way.  That  if  God 
is  Love,  no  higher  praise  could  be  given  Him  than 
to  live  a  life  of  love.  But  in  order  to  best  accom- 
plish this  there  is  the  prerequisite,  the  first  duty,  of 
absolute  sincerity.  The  man  who  claims  the  wish  to 
do  good,  who  knows  the  need  of  earnest  workers,  and 


62  UNCLE  CARL 

yet  blinds  his  eyes  to  the  signs  of  distress  on  all  sides 
and  shuts  his  ears  to  the  cries  for  succor,  is  not  the 
sincere  man.  The  man  who  gives  lavishly  for  repu- 
tation's sake  may  do  much  good,  but  he  could  do 
more  good  were  he  sincere  with  himself.  Hypocrisy 
in  any  form,  in  large  or  small  things,  in  unspoken 
thoughts  or  in  a  sermon  under  the  cloak  of  religion, 
is  a  hideous  monster.  For  it  invariably  lessens  the 
good  that  might  be  done  if  sincerity  were  in  its 
place." 

"H'm,"  said  Courtright,  thoughtfully;  "while  I 
will  not  say  that  I  agree  with  you  entirely,  especially 
in  your  sweeping  denunciation  of  hypocrisy,  I  yet  am 
inclined  to  think  that  you  are  in  a  measure  right. 
What  is  your  apprehension  of  the  term  'sincerity'?" 

"Sincerity,"  replied  Carl,  "is  the  constant 
endeavor  to  establish  and  maintain  a  perfect  harmony 
between  our  lives  and  our  highest  possible  concep- 
tions of  truth.  While  I  realize  that  perfection  is 
ever  beyond  our  reach,  that  we  can  never  realize  our 
ideal  in  its  fullness,  yet  our  duty  is  to  ever  strive  to 
approximate  it  more  closely.  There  is  nothing 
higher  than  truth;  there  must  be  discord  if  we  are 
out  of  harmony  with  it.  Our  highest  conception  of 
truth  may  fall  far  short  of  the  reality,  but  it  is  our 
best  light;  and  if  we  deliberately  or  thoughtlessly 
shut  it  out  in  any  degree,  we  are  insincere;  because 
we  are  wilfully  untruthful  in  either  thought,  word 
or  act.  No  two  people  ever  see  truth  with  the  same 
eyes.  It  has  a  shade  different  light  to  give  to  each. 
Yet  each  should  see  for  himself;  should  judge  and 
act  for  himself,  unless  some  misfortune  forces  him  to 
rely  upon  others  for  vision,  intellectual  or  otherwise. 
And  according  to  this  light  should  each  see  his  duties 
for  himself." 


UNCLE  CARL  63 

"That's  good,"  said  Courtright;  "I  think  I  follow 
you  clearly,  and  I  believe  you  are  right.  You  get  a 
good  deal  more  out  of  that  word  than  I  have  ever 
seen  in  it  before,  and  its  truth  too.  Now  I  would 
like  to  ask  you  for  a  definition  of  Truth." 

"And  I  refuse  to  give  it,"  laughed  Carl.  "The 
catechetical  interrogations  emanate  from  the  wrong 
quarter;  in  other  words,  /  am  putting  you  through 
your  catechism.  What  is  the  first  duty  of  man?" 

"Absolute  sincerity,"  answered  Courtright. 

"Are  you  a  sincere  man  according  to  the  cate- 
chism?" asked  Carl. 

"I  must  confess  that  I  fall  far  short  many  times. 
I  have  never  thought  of  it  as  you  have,"  replied 
Courtright.  "But  what  trap  are  you  laying  for 
me?" 

"Do  you  believe  that  it  is  only  by  being  absolutely 
sincere  that  a  man  can  clearly  see  his  duty?"  asked 
Englewood. 

"I  do.  Hurry  up;  I'm  getting  anxious  to  know 
where  I've  lapsed,  and  it's  about  time  we  are  starting 
for  Stanhope's  cottage,"  said  Courtright. 

"Never  you  mind  Stanhope  until  you've  learned 
your  lesson,"  laughed  Carl.  "I've  only  one  more 
question  to  ask.  Now  then — suppose  that  some  man 
had  done  all  and  more  than  you  have  accused  me  of 
doing,  and  which  I  have  not  admitted  that  I  did  do. 
Suppose  him  to  have  been  a  sincere  man,  and  to  have 
concluded,  according  to  his  lights,  that  his  duty  lay 
in  such  work.  What  right  have  you — who  acknowl- 
edge that  you  are  not  sincere,  and  therefore  are  not 
in  a  position  to  judge  clearly  as  to  another's  duty — 
to  say  that  he  has  neglected  himself  'through  a  mis- 
taken sense  of  duty'  ?" 

"Ah  ha!    I  see,"  laughed  his  friend.     "Well,  I 


64  UNCLE  CARL 

acknowledge  that  I  have  no  right.  I  believe  that 
you  are  sincere,  and  you  are  certainly  better  able  to 
judge  as  to  your  own  duty  than  any  one  else.  Engle- 
wood,  you  are  a  noble  man." 

"Shut  up !  I  just  wanted  to  convince  you  that  I 
know  what  I  am  doing  and  have  my  eyes  wide  open. 
You  don't  know  what  'noble'  means  or  you  wouldn't 
accuse  me  of  it.  I  hate  flattery,"  Englewood  replied 
rather  impatiently. 

"I  don't  mean  to  flatter  you,"  said  Courtright, 
"but  if  I  may  I  would  like  to  ask  you  a  question." 

"Go  ahead,"  replied  Carl,  "but  don't  give  me  any 
more  taffy." 

"Do  you  abhor  hypocrisy  as  much  as  your  words 
seem  to  indicate?"  asked  Courtright. 

"Yes,  most  emphatically!"  cried  Englewood. 
"It  is  the  most  despicable  sin  of  humanity." 

"Well,  then,"  said  Courtright,  "tell  me  by  what 
right  you,  as  a  sincere  man  and  one  who  loves  to  give 
to  others,  dare  stigmatize  yourself  as  'an  utterly 
selfish  man'?" 

Carl  dropped  his  head  for  a  moment,  and  then 
with  a  deprecating  smile  he  clasped  his  friend's  hand 
and  said,  "I  guess  it's  time  to  start  for  Stanhope's 
cottage." 


CHAPTER  VI 

Our  friend  Carl  was  something  of  a  paradox  to 
those  who  are  unaccustomed  to  a  sincere  self-analysis 
and  an  earnestness  in  striving  for  absolute  truth. 

That  he  did  not  attempt  to  answer  Courtright's 
last  question  was  not  because  he  had  no  adequate 
answer  to  give,  but  because  he  knew  that  even  so 
trusting  and  trustworthy  a  friend  would  not  under- 
stand him.  As  the  world  views  unselfishness,  Carl 
was  far  from  being  an  'utterly  selfish'  man.  He  was 
ever  ready  to  give  of  his  material  possessions.  A 
kind  word,  and  a  helping  hand,  and  a  busy  brain 
were  ever  ready  at  the  call  of  suffering  and  need, 
either  physical  or  mental.  But  Carl  was  in  the  habit 
of  looking  more  deeply  into  himself.  With  him 
the  motive  showed  the  man — it  was  the  very  soul  of 
every  deed,  good  or  evil.  A  man  might,  according 
to  his  creed,  give  millions  to  the  world  and  much 
good  might  result  therefrom;  but  if  the  man's  mo- 
tives were  simply  to  gain  worldly  honor  and  the 
reputation  of  being  a  great  philanthropist,  Carl 
would  not  consider  that  he  was  an  unselfish  man 
simply  because  he  had  given  so  much,  even  though 
the  world  would  receive  and  enjoy  and  be  grateful 
for  the  good  done;  because,  the  motive  was  selfish. 
A  man  might  spend  many  years  in  deep,  patient  study 
in  the  prosecution  of  some  great  scientific  problem. 
He  might  reach  the  highest  results;  yet,  if  he  prose- 
cuted his  work  solely  for  direct  personal  honor  and 
the  desire  to  make  his  name  immortal,  Carl  would 
hold  that  we  may  receive  the  results  of  this  man's 
5 


66  UNCLE  CARL 

life  and  make  use  of  them;  they  shall  enter  into  the 
great  world  of  knowledge  and  do  much  good;  but 
the  man  who  accomplished  these  things  showed  by 
his  motive  that  he  was  utterly  selfish  and  unworthy 
of  that  immortality  which  is  given  his  name,  albeit 
we  may  admire  the  ability  that  was  able  to  consum- 
mate such  great  results. 

And  Carl  was  too  earnest  a  man  to  see  these 
principles  and  apply  them  to  others  and  not  apply 
them  to  himself  as  well.  Not  that  he  was  a  fault- 
finder. The  principles  that  he  held  were  true  to 
him,  but  he  seldom  individualized.  He  was  too 
generous  to  accuse  others  of  selfishness  unless  he  had 
indubitable  proof  of  it,  and  a  good  object  to  serve  by 
criticism.  Often  in  his  hours  of  introspection  he 
would  trace  the  path  back  from  action  to  motive; 
and  so  often  would  he  find  that  he  had  given  here, 
assisted  there,  and  spoken  the  cheery  word  to  the 
downcast  with  more  thought  of  the  pleasure  it  did 
and  would  give  himself,  than  of  the  good  it  would 
yield  to  the  recipient,  that  he  would  at  times  be  dis- 
gusted with  himself  and  cry  out,  "I,  too,  am  utterly 
selfish."  And  it  was  in  this  sense  that  he  used  the 
words  in  talking  with  his  friend,  although  he  knew 
that  they  would  not  be  understood.  He  was  not 
altogether  selfish  even  in  this  sense.  His  sympathies 
were  easily  aroused,  his  emotions  strong  and  true, 
and  he  held  that,  although  a  man  is  entitled  to  no 
special  commendation  who  does  good  from  selfish 
motives,  yet  it  is  better  to  do  it  thus  than  to  not  do  it 
at  all.  His  ideals  were  high  and  he  knew  that  he 
ought  ever  to  strive  to  realize  them.  And  if  he 
could  not  draw  nearer  to  them  without  thinking  of 
himself,  then  he  would  climb  toward  them  carrying 
his  selfishness  along,  and  perhaps  little  by  little  he 


UNCLE  CARL  67 

might  be  able  to  cast  off  some  of  his  self-conscious- 
ness. He  disliked  to  be  called  "good,"  and  "benevo- 
lent," and  "self-sacrificing,"  because  he  could  see,  as 
others  could  not,  that  self-interest  was  too  often  his 
prompter;  he  truly  abhored  hypocrisy  and  felt  that 
to  receive  praise,  when  he  felt  himself  undeserving, 
was  to  be  a  hypocrite. 

We,  who  are  seldom  troubled  with  such  scruples, 
think  that  Carl  was  too  severe  with  himself;  that  he 
was  finicky;  his  ideas  too  far-fetched  for  every-day 
life;  but  we  must  admit  that  he  was  a  true  man  in 
the  highest  sense  of  the  term,  for  he  insistently  strived 
to  live  according  to  his  best  lights.  And  who  shall 
say  that,  if  what  Carl  thought  were  his  motives  could 
have  been  swept  altogether  away,  there  would  not 
have  been  found  beneath  them  the  strongest,  purest, 
and  most  heroic  unselfishness;  that,  whether  he  was 
right  or  wrong  in  his  self-analysis  of  motives,  he 
would  not  have  gone  on  in  the  same  way,  doing  good 
as  he  had  opportunity.  True,  we  consider  selfish- 
ness reprehensible ;  yet,  is  it  not  one  of  nature's  first 
laws?  Physically  it  is  so  at  least;  and  if  with  our 
higher  moral  ethics  we  now  hold  that  self-sacrifice 
for  the  good  of  others  is  nobler,  we  yet  must  admit 
that,  all  other  conditions  being  equal,  self  may  rightly 
be  given  the  preference;  that  is,  if  we  can  do  more 
for  the  world  by  preserving  than  we  could  by  sacri- 
ficing self,  then  by  a  strict  following  of  the  teachings 
of  natural  law,  which  is  but  another  name  for  justice, 
it  is  not  only  our  right  but  our  duty  to  give  self  the 
preference,  even  though  the  applause  of  the  world, 
which  most  of  us  love  so  well,  would  follow  the  man 
who>  heroically  sacrificed  his  life  to  save  a  venerable 
pauper  imbecile  from  a  violent  death. 

The  trouble  is,  we  are  not  able  to  forecast  all 


68  UNCLE  CARL 

results.  We  know  neither  our  own  powers  nor  the 
powers  of  those  we  would  help.  And,  as  Carl  was 
wont  to  reason,  our  very  inability  to  see  forces  us  to 
take  chances;  and  indeed  it  is  this  blindness  that 
gives  the  chief  zest  to  life.  If  we  were  all-wise— 
able  to  see  all  ends — we  would  become  mere  ma- 
chines and  the  battle  of  life  would  scarce  be  worth 
the  living  for  us. 

And  now  let  us  follow  the  two  friends  as  they 
drove  down  the  avenue  between  the  waving  green  of 
the  noble  maples,  each  silently  enjoying  an  ideal 
summer  day;  past  many  beautiful  houses  and  green 
lawns,  and  fragrant  gardens;  out  into  the  country, 
past  the  fertile  farms  with  their  little  clusters  of  build- 
ings, following  for  a  time  the  winding  course  of  a 
broad  and  beautiful  river  and  entering  finally  a  tract 
of  timber  land  that  stretched  for  two  or  three  miles 
down  to  the  verge  of  grand  old  Lake  Michigan. 
And  the  birds  sang,  the  insects  hummed  drowsily,  an 
occasional  squirrel  would  scamper  along  a  fallen  tree, 
a  rabbit  startled  from  its  feed  bounded  away,  and  the 
two  men  enjoyed  it  all  and  gratefully  inhaled  the 
pure  air  as  it  came  to  them  from  the  lake. 

Suddenly  Carl  placed  his  hand  on  Courtright's 
shoulder  and  pointed  to  two  figures  that  could  be  seen 
at  some  rods  distance  to  the  left,  through  a  vista  of 
trees  somewhat  less  closely  set  than  the  general 
forest.  A  man  with  his  back  toward  the  road  was 
evidently  talking  with  some  vehemence  to  a  girl,  or 
woman, — our  friends  were  uncertain  which, — whom 
he  held  by  the  wrist  with  his  left  hand,  while  with 
his  right  he  was  apparently  vigorously  emphasizing 
his  remarks.  Mr.  Courtright  silently  reined  in  the 
horses  and  the  men  watched  the  couple,  each  im- 
pressed with  the  same  dread  suspicion.  As  they 


UNCLE  CARL  69 

watched,  the  man  suddenly  threw  his  arms  about  the 
woman,  who'  with  a  stifled  cry  for  help  began  a 
struggle  for  liberty.  No  longer  in  doubt,  Carl 
bounded  from  the  carriage  and  ran  stumbling 
through  the  underbrush  in  the  direction  of  the  pair; 
while  Courtright,  after  securing  the  horses  to  a  tree, 
hastened  after  him.  As  Carl  drew  near,  the  frantic 
moans  of  the  poor  woman,  mingled  with  the  mut- 
tered curses  of  the  assailant,  reached  him. 

"Oh,  let  me  go!  Let  me  go!"  she  cried.  "I'll  die 
first.  You  cannot." 

"Keep  still,  damn  ye!  I  tell  ye,  yuh  wull.  I'll 
hev  all  the  kisses  I  want,  'nd  more  uv  yeh  then  thet 
too.  Curse  ye!  scratch,  wull  ye?  Wull  then,  take 
thet,  an'  thet,  an' — " 

But  here  the  man,  with  his  hand  raised  to  strike  a 
third  blow,  felt  a  grip  as  of  steel  on  his  neck;  and 
loosening  his  hold  of  the  poor  girl,  who  fell  moaning 
on  the  soft  earth,  he  tried  to  face  his  assailant.  But 
Carl,  who  had  scarce  reached  them  in  time,  fairly 
lifted  him  from  the  ground,  and  with  a  wonderful 
strength  for  one  of  so  light  a  build  hurled  him  from 
him  with  such  force  that,  his  head  striking  a  tree  as 
he  fell,  he  lay  like  a  log,  insensible.  Turning  then 
to  the  poor  girl,  he  sought  to  calm  her;  while  Court- 
right,  now  on  the  scene,  stood  over  the  wretch  ready 
to  prevent  any  attempt  at  escape.  It  was  wonderful 
to  note  how  a  strong,  earnest  character  can  subdue 
and  soothe.  It  needed  but  a  word  from  Englewood, 
as  he  laid  his  hand  on  the  almost  hysterical  girl's 
head,  to  recall  her  to  self-control  and  quiet.  His 
words  were  simple,  but  his  deep  voice  vibrated  with 
sympathy  and  strength. 

"All  safe  now,  child,"  he  said.  "Don't  distress 
yourself  longer."  And  in  a  moment  her  moaning 


70  UNCLE  CARL 

ceased,  and  with  a  glance  upward  at  the  kind  face 
bending  over  her,  she  slowly  rose  to  her  feet  as  she 
clasped  the  extended  hand  of  her  deliverer. 

She  was  the  daughter  of  a  neighboring  farmer, — 
plump  and  fair  to  look  upon, — and  had  been  strolling 
through  the  woods  enjoying  the  beautiful  day,  when 
she  was  suddenly  seized  by  the  eager  wretch  at  her 
feet.  After  a  few  words  with  Courtright,  Carl  left 
him  to  guard  the  conquered  rascal  and  supported  the 
girl  to  her  home;  learning  on  the  way  her  name  and 
circumstances.  Returning  shortly,  he  said  to  Court- 
right  : 

"Well,  I  suppose  we'll  have  to  take  the  fellow  to 
town  with  us." 

"Not  necessarily,"  said  Courtright.  "I  don't  see 
that  it  is  any  of  our  quarrel.  Let's  give  the  fiend  a 
good  thrashing  and  let  him  go.  We  can't  afford  to 
stay  here  for  trial." 

"Oh,  shame  on  you,  Courtright!"  replied  Carl. 
"What's  duty  good  for  if  we  can't  sacrifice  a  little 
for  it?  This  whelp  is  a  dangerous  man  to  let 
loose." 

"Don't  you  think  that  we  can  punish  him  better 
than  the  law  could?"  asked  Courtright,  who  was 
angry  enough  at  this  moment  to  inflict  almost  any 
torture  on  the  captive. 

"Oh !  calm  yourself,  my  dear  fellow.  You  are 
a  little  out  of  your  head,  I'm  afraid.  What  good 
would  it  do  for  us  to  give  him  a  good  whipping  and 
then  let  him  go  again,  even  if  we  might  lawfully  do 
so?  Would  it  deter  him  from  like  action  in  the 
future?  And  then,  too,  it  is  not  altogether  for  the 
good  of  such  as  he  that  we  punish,  but  for  the  good 
of  the  people.  Animals  of  this  sort  should  be  placed 
where  they  cannot  do  harm;  and  that  is  where  our 


UNCLE  CARL  71 

duty  comes  in.  I  do  not  see  that  we  have  any  right 
to  let  him  go." 

"But,  we'll  have  to  stay  here  for  several  days, 
Englewood.  And  neither  of  us  can  do  that  now," 
argued  Courtright. 

"Yes  we  can,"  replied  his  friend,  "though  at  some 
loss  of  time.  But  it  seems  to  me  that  duty  points 
that  way.  And  so  do  you,  don't  you?" 

Courtright  smiled  faintly  as  he  replied,  "Well,  yes. 
I  suppose  so.  But  you  are  more  willing  to  do  your 
duty  than  I  am.  I  don't  want  to  stay.  However,  I 
suppose  there's  no  help  for  it,  since  you  insist." 

After  a  brief  consultation  the  two  decided  to  take 
their  prisoner  on  to  Stanhope's  cottage,  near  which 
they  now  were,  and  get  his  assistance  in  further  pro- 
ceedings. The  man  had  by  this  time  regained  con- 
sciousness, and  his  red-rimmed  eyes  leered  at  them 
as  he  heard  their  intentions. 

"Well,  get  up,  fellow !"  said  Courtright,  suddenly 
turning  and  pushing  him  with  his  foot.  "We  must 
hurry  on." 

With  a  muttered  curse  the  man  rose  to  his  feet 
and  started  toward  the  deeper  woods.  "Not  that 
way,"  said  Courtright.  "You  are  going  with  us  to 
a  safer  place." 

"Wull,  I  guess  not,"  said  the  man,  turning  toward 
him.  "I'm  goin'  this  way.  'Nd  don't  ye  try  fer  to 
stop  me  if  ye  keer  anythin'  for  that  alabaster  hide 
uv  yourn." 

Courtright  started  after  the  man,  whose  evident 
intention  was  to  get  away  from  them;  but  Carl  re- 
strained him,  saying  quietly,  "Let  me  manage  him. 
You,  sir,"  he  said,  addressing  the  miscreant,  "will  go 
with  us.  Go  that  way,"  pointing  toward  the  road. 


72  UNCLE  CARL 

"We  will  follow  after.  It  is  a  case  of  must  for  you, 
so  march!" 

Englewood's  manner  was  firm,  his  voice  clear  and 
steady;  for  a  moment  he  looked  sternly  at  the  man, 
with  an  expression  that  plainly  said,  "It  is  my  will, 
therefore  it  is  useless  to  struggle.  Go !'  We  have 
heard  that  even  the  fiercest  beasts  of  the  jungle  are 
sometimes  cowed  by  the  clear,  unflinching  eye  of 
man;  and  it  seemed  even  so  with  this  man.  After 
returning  Carl's  gaze  for  a  moment  his  eyes  fell  and 
he  shambled  off  down  the  road,  Englewood  follow- 
ing a  short  distance  behind  and  Courtright  driving 
the  horses  slowly  after. 

In  this  manner  they  reached  the  cottage,  where 
Stanhope,  impatient  at  the  delay,  was  angrily  chew- 
ing the  stub  of  his  cigar  on  the  porch. 

The  captive  appeared  in  view  first,  and  Stanhope 
was  about  to  address  him  with  a  curse,  when  he  saw 
Englewood  walking  two  or  three  yards  behind.  Say- 
ing under  his  breath  as  he  passed  him,  "Hush,  don't 
let  any  one  know  that  I  know  you,"  Stanhope  ad- 
vanced to  Carl  with  extended  hand  and  hearty  greet- 
ing. "I'd  about  given  you  up,"  he  said.  "And 
where  is  your  friend?  Ah,  you  are  too  late  to  enjoy 
the  best  of  our  quiet  retreat,  but  there  are  still  beau- 
ties in  store.  Oh,  there's  Mr.  Courtright,"  as  the 
horses  appeared.  "I'll — " 

"A  moment,  Mr.  Stanhope,"  said  Englewood,  in- 
terrupting him.  "We  have  a  captive  with  us  and 
may  need  your  advice,"  and  he  gave  a  hurried  ac- 
count of  the  recent  scene,  while  Jenkins  stood 
sullenly  by. 

"I  guess  we  can  take  care  of  the  scamp  all  right," 
said  Stanhope.  "We  had  better  lock  him  up  in  the 
back  room  for  the  present,  and  take  him  to  town 


UNCLE  CARL  73 

with  us  when  we  return  later.  Such  rascals  should 
be  made  an  example  of." 

Procuring  some  rope,  Jenkins  was  bound  and 
locked  in  the  shed  at  the  rear  of  the  cottage;  and 
then  the  three  men  sat  on  the  porch  with  their  cigars 
enjoying,  each  in  his  own  way,  the  glories  of  the 
dying  day.  Their  talk,  after  discussing  finally  a  few 
business  matters,  was  of  a  desultory  nature,  and  they 
were  all  glad  when  the  time  came  to  return  to  town. 
Upon  going  for  their  captive,  however,  the  man  was 
not  to  be  found.  The  ropes  were  lying  on  the  floor, 
having  been  somewhat  loosely  tied  by  Stanhope,  and 
an  open  window  indicated  the  manner  of  escape. 
Whether  the  two  friends  suspected  Stanhope's  col- 
lusion or  not,  does  not  matter.  Each  kept  his  own 
counsel. 

The  following  day  the  two  returned  to  Chicago, 
where,  after  so  arranging  his  affairs  as  to  insure  their 
safe  conduct  during  his  absence,  Carl  took  leave  of 
his  friend  and  departed  for  the  far  West. 


CHAPTER  VII 

In  a  "private  box"  of  the  "Theatre  Comique,"  in 
a  Montana  city,  a  man  of  some  thirty  years  was  mak- 
ing a  rapid  pencil  sketch  of  a  scene  familiar  to  the 
habitues  of  that  half-way  house  to  perdition.  A  gen- 
eral correspondent  for  a  popular  Eastern  publication, 
he  was  under  orders  to  detail  'the  life  and  the  more 
potent  life-influences  of  the  far  West;  and  his  work 
brought  him  into  contact  with  all  classes,  from  the 
highest  to  the  lowest.  In  that  country  he  met  some 
of  the  noblest  of  the  sons  and  daughters  of  the  Great 
Mother;  witnessed  unselfishness,  self-sacrifice  and 
courageous  daring  of  the  highest  order;  as  well  as 
sin  and  cowardice  and  self-seeking  of  the  lowest. 
And  all  the  way  between  the  two  extremes  an  army 
of  restless  individuals  were  struggling.  Some  up- 
ward with  healthy  ambition;  many  moving  down- 
ward toward  the  hells  and  brothels;  and  all  seem- 
ingly imbued  with  a  restless  activity  whichever  way 
they  moved. 

The  "Theatre  Comique"  was  often  spoken  of  as 
the  stepping-stone  between  the  orderly  gilded  halls 
of  the  high-class  gambling  houses  and  the  lowest 
haunts  of  vice  and  debauchery.  A  stranger  in  the 
city,  with  time  hanging  heavily  on  his  hands,  would 
often  go  to  this  place  for  amusement.  Many  a  young 
man  coming  West  in  search  of  fortune,  lured  by  the 
higher  wages,  the  freer  competition,  the  hope  of 
"striking  it  rich,"  the  spirit  of  adventure  or  what- 
not, has  roamed  the  city's  streets  friendless  and 
lonely.  Has  perhaps  watched  the  games  in  the 
gambling  places;  perchance  ventured  a  few  dollars 


UNCLE  CARL  75 

there,  and  then  gone  out  on  the  street  again.  Anon, 
the  brilliantly  lighted  entrance  and  the  flaming 
posters  promising  "high-class  vaudeville"  lure  him 
into  this  hall,  and — unless  he  be  stronger,  and  with 
higher  ideals  than  many — he  is  on  a  fair  road  to  the 
foul  swamp  of  iniquity  to  which  this  is  a  gateway. 

This  place  is  the  type  of  many  scattered  through- 
out the  newer  West.  The  lower  floor  is  furnished 
with  chairs  and  tables,  where,  for  a  small  admittance 
fee,  one  may  sit  and  enjoy,  or  endure,  according  to 
his  mental  inclination,  the  performances  on  the  stage. 
These  are  often  of  a  high  class,  but  more  often  are 
suggestive  of  license.  Numerous  young  girls  move 
in  and  out  amongst  the  audience,  urging  the  guests 
to  order  liquor,  sitting  at  table  with  them,  and  ex- 
tending and  receiving  physical  caresses  unblushingly. 
These  girls  are  given  a  check  by  the  house  with  each 
order,  for  a  certain  percentage  of  the  cost;  and  thus, 
with  a  particularly  weak  or  reckless  customer,  some- 
times reap  a  large  harvest  during  an  evening.  The 
second  floor  is  devoted  to  the  "private  boxes,"  where 
a  patron  may  have  his  order  filled  and  enjoy  the  com- 
pany of  the  fair  waitress  behind  drawn  curtains,  if 
he  is  so  inclined.  But  always  the  occupant  of  a  box 
is  expected  to  send  at  least  one  order  to  the  bar. 

The  third  floor  is  devoted  to  private  "wine- 
rooms,"  where,  with  easy  chairs  and  couches,  one 
may  stay  with  "his  girl"  until  his  cash  is  exhausted. 

It  was  in  this  place  that  our  correspondent  had  oc- 
cupied a  box.  An  untasted  order  for  liquor  was  on 
the  table  and  sketch-book  in  hand.  In  a  box  on  the 
opposite  side  of  the  house,  with  the  curtains  partially 
drawn,  was  a  typical  scene  which  his  pencil  was 
transferring  to  the  paper. 

A  well-dressed,   intelligent-appearing  young  man 


76  UNCLE  CARL 

was  seated  in  an  easy  chair.  A  young  girl,  fair  to 
look  upon,  he  had  drawn  to  his  knee,  his  arm  about 
her  waist;  while  in  the  background  appeared  a 
waiter  with  bottle  and  glasses  on  a  tray.  Having 
finished  the  sketch  he  placed  pencil  and  book  in  his 
pocket  and  sat  idly  watching  a  raucous-voiced  mono- 
logue artist,  while  his  thoughts  wandered  amidst  far 
different  scenes  back  in  the  land  of  the  Alleghenies. 

Aroused  by  a  knock  on  the  box  door,  he  called, 
"Enter,"  when,  the  door  opening,  he  was  surprised 
to  see  the  young  girl  he  had  just  sketched  somewhat 
timidly  approach.  Her  manner  was  not  of  that 
coarseness  to  which  he  had  been  accustomed  in  em- 
ployees of  this  place.  Her  clothing,  while  of  cheap 
materials,  was  clean  and  tasteful,  her  person  neat; 
and  one  could  readily  see  that  she  was  not  an  old 
hand  at  this  kind  of  work.  In  age  she  might  have 
been  fifteen  years. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,"  said  she,  "but  I  saw  that  you 
were  alone,  and  thought  you  might  like  company. 
You  know" — as  she  noted  his  somewhat  unrespon- 
sive face — "that  is  what  we  girls  are  here  for." 

The  man  looked  at  her  earnestly  for  a  few 
moments  without  speaking.  It  seemed  to  him  that 
here  was  a  choice  rose  in  a  garden  of  poisonous 
weeds.  The  girl's  face  on  near  view  was  one  of  re- 
finement; the  features  clear  cut  and  regular;  the 
large  brown  eyes  frank  and  expressive,  looking  at 
him  with  a  pleading,  somewhat  shamefaced  yet  un- 
decided manner,  as  if  to  say,  "I  ought  to  ask  you  to 
order  something  to  drink,  and  yet — and  yet — I  hate 
to  do  it."  Her  whole  person  seemed  to  say,  "I  am 
out  of  my  natural  element." 

Harshly  at  last  the  man  blurted  out,  "What  are 
you  here  for?" 


UNCLE  CARL  77 

"Why,"  she  replied  hesitatingly,  "to  keep  you 
company." 

"I  do  not  mean  that,"  he  said;  "but  what  are  you 
in  this  house  for?  You  ought  to  be  at  home  with 
your  mother  and  father.  Home,  do  you  hear;  not 
in  the  company  of  such  outcasts  as  you  find  here." 

The  girl's  lips  quivered  as  he  said  this,  and  the 
brown  eyes  filled  with  tears  as  she  bowed  her  head. 
"I  have  no  father,  nor  mother,"  she  sadly  replied. 
"I  am  here  because  I  have  no  home,  no  friends,  no 
other  place  to  go,  and  no  money  to — Oh,  Heaven! 
I  wish  I  was  dead,"  and  with  a  sob  she  sank  into  a 
chair  and  buried  her  face  in  her  arms  as  she  leaned 
forward  on  the  table. 

"There,  there,"  the  man  placed  his  hand  on  the 
bowed  head.  "I  didn't  mean  to  hurt  you  like  this. 
But  I  know  that  you  are  out  of  place  here.  Sit  up 
and  tell  me  about  yourself.  Perhaps  I  can  see  a  way 
out  for  you." 

A  sympathetic  tone,  the  firm  cool  hand  on  her 
head,  seemed  to  quiet  the  girl.  Slowly  she  raised  her 
head  and  looked  at  him.  He  was  a  man  somewhat 
above  medium  height,  rather  slender  in  build,  but 
with  that  indefinable  grace  and  ease  of  motion  which 
tells  of  sinews  of  steel.  His  face  almost  reminded 
one  O'f  the  "Man  of  Sorrows,"  so  full  was  it  of 
sympathy  and  drawn  with  the  lines  of  care  and  suf- 
fering. His  eyes,  however,  were  his  strongest  feat- 
ure. Of  a  blue  that  sometimes  changed  under  the 
influence  of  emotions  to  almost  black,  they  seemed  to 
look  into  one's  inmost  soul,  while  at  the  same  time 
there  seemed  to  come  from  them  an  almost  magnetic 
influence  that  drew  one  to  them  in  spite  of  himself. 
Looking  into  his  eyes  one  could  think  of  nothing  but 


78  UNCLE  CARL 

Truth;   one  felt  that  behind  them  lay  a  pure  soul— 
an  honest  man. 

"Come,"  he  said,  "tell  me  about  it.  You  need  a 
friend;  perhaps  I  can  find  one  for  you." 

"I  don't  know  why  it  is,  sir,"  said  the  girl.  "You 
are  a  stranger  to  me,  and  yet —  I  do  need  a  friend, 
and  something  tells  me  to  trust  you  with  my  story. 
But  yet  I  doubt  if  a  man  who  comes  to  such  a  place 
as  this  for  amusement  could  be  a  true  friend  to  such 
as  I." 

"I  am  not  here  for  amusement,  as  you  think,  but 
as  an  observer.  I  am  gathering  material  as  corre- 
spondent of  a  New  York  paper,"  the  man  replied. 

"That  reminds  me,"  said  the  girl,  "of  what  I  came 
in  here  for.  I  saw  you  sketching  me  and  I  wanted 
to  see  what  you  drew.  May  I  see  it?" 

"Well,  not  just  now,"  he  answered.  "Perhaps  I 
will  let  you  see  it  later.  I  don't  ask  for  your  confi- 
dence, girl,  yet,  if  you  are  so  inclined,  I  would  be 
glad  to  know  how  it  happens  that  you  are  in  such  a 
place." 

The  girl  hesitated  a  few  moments,  and  then  with 
an  impulsive  movement,  as  if  she  shouldered  aside 
all  doubt,  she  told  him  her  brief  history. 

"My  mother,"  she  said,  "died  when  I  was  born. 
I  was  twelve  years  old  when  my  father  at  his  death 
left  me  in  care  of  a  guardian,  who,  as  my  health 
was  poor,  sent  me  South  in  hope  of  restoring  me.  I 
was  living  at  a  boarding-school  at  the  time,  and  my 
guardian — whom  I  had  never  seen — wrote  that  he 
had  sent  a  lady  who  would  have  charge  of  me  dur- 
ing my  girlhood  and  who  would  give  me  all  needed 
care.  I  was  to  meet  her  at  the  depot  and  go  on  with 
her  to  the  South.  As  I  had  no  living  relatives  and 
few  friends,  it  was  easy  to  pack  up  my  few  belong- 


UNCLE  CARL  79 

ings,  and  I  was  ready  when  the  train  arrived.  As  I 
stood  on  the  platform  uncertainly  looking  around 
me,  a  woman  approached  me  and  said,  'Is  this 
Hattie?'  I  replied,  'Yes.'  And  then  she  called  a 
man  to  her  and  told  him  to  call  a  hack.  'Why,'  I 
said,  'I  thought  we  were  to  go  on  this  train.'  'No,' 
she  said,  'we  ain't;  I've  got  to  see  some  chums  of 
mine  here  and  we  won't  go  till  to-morrow.'  I  didn't 
like  this  woman;  she  seemed  so  different  from  those 
I  had  been  used  to,  sort  of  bold;  and  she  wasn't 
dressed  nice,  and  she  didn't  talk  nice ;  but  then,  if  my 
guardian  had  sent  her,  I  had  to  go  with  her,  of 
course.  She  took  me  to  a  common  boarding-house 
and  left  me  till  the  next  morning,  when  she  and  the 
man  who  had  called  a  hack  at  the  depot  called  for 
me  and  we  took  a  train.  The  man  was  rough  look- 
ing and  very  dirty,  and  I  thought  he  might  be  her 
servant,  only  they  were  so  very  familiar.  They 
talked  coarse,  too,  and  I  thought  it  very  strange  that 
my  guardian  should  have  put  me  in  the  care  of  such 
people.  I  remember  once  she  asked  him  if  he  'got 
rid  of  the  kid  all  right,'  and  he  said,  'Bet  your  life, 
Liz.  The  fool  uv  a  woman  made  fer  the  kid  like  a 
cow  fur  her  calf;  put  her  arms  around  the  young  un 
an'  hauled  the  brat  onto  the  train  instanter.  I  didn't 
even  hev  time  to  wish  'er  bung  viyage.'  'Ha,  ha!' 
the  woman  laughed,  'she'll  have  a  darn  good  time 
bringing  up  that  girl,  I  tell  you.  Her  dad  was  'bout 
as  low  as  they  make  'em.'  Then  the  man  pulled  out 
a  flask  and  they  both  drank  out  of  it.  I  was  very 
tired,  and  before  long  I  was  asleep,  curled  up  on  a 
seat  just  in  front  of  them.  Late  in  the  afternoon  I 
was  awakened  by  some  one  rudely  shaking  me,  and 
looking  up  met  the  eyes  of  the  man. 

"  'Here,  young  un,'   he  said,   'you've  slep'   long 


8o  UNCLE  CARL 

enuff.  Git  up !  We  got  to  git  out  here  for  lunch,' 
and  grabbed  my  arm  and  dragged  me  to  the  plat- 
form. Half  bewildered,  I  asked  where  the  lady  was. 
'The  what?'  he  said.  'Lady!  Oh,  you  mean  Liz.' 
He  seemed  immensely  pleased,  and  laughed  heartily, 
finally  saying,  'Why,  young  un,  Liz  ain't  no  lady; 
she's  jest  one  uv  the  girls  what  runs  a  house  daown 
at  St.  Loo.  She  got  off  an  hour  ago.' 

"  'But  why  didn't  she  take  me?'  I  asked.  'My 
guardian  said  I  was  to  go  with  her.'  And  then  real- 
izing that  I  had  been  deserted  and  left  at  the  disposal 
of  this  awful  man,  I  burst  out  crying.  At  this  the 
man  seized  me  by  the  arm  again  and  shook  me,  at 
the  same  time  threatening  me  with  all  sorts  of  dread- 
ful things  if  I  didn't  stop  blubbering*  Well,  to  make 
a  short  story  of  it,  he  bought  a  lunch  at  the  depot 
and  then  put  me  on  the  train  with  a  ticket  through  to 
Salt  Lake  City,  and  thrusting  a  five-dollar  bill  in  my 
hand  told  me  I  would  find  some  one  waiting  for  me 
at  the  end  of  my  journey.  What  was  I  to  do?  I 
was  alone,  friendless,  and  only  twelve  years  old,  and 
without  experience  in  the  world.  It  seemed  to  me 
that  the  only  thing  for  me  to  do  was  to  go  on,  and  I 
did  so.  No  one  met  me  at  Salt  Lake,  and  having  no 
money,  except  the  five  dollars  the  man  gave  me,— 
and  that  was  soon  gone, — I  tried  to  get  work;  but 
somehow  no  one  wanted  such  a  child  as  I.  I  worked 
for  a  while  in  a  restaurant  kitchen,  but  I  was  not 
strong  enough  and  was  discharged.  I  tried  several 
places,  but  without  success,  until  finally  a  woman 
took  me  in  and  said  she  had  a  good  place  for  me.  It 
was  a  large  house,  and  my  work  was  just  to  sweep 
and  dust  and  keep  things  tidy.  I  noticed  she  had 
many  men  callers,  and  several  of  them  brought 
women  with  them ;  but  it  was  not  for  several  weeks 


UNCLE  CARL  81 

that  I  learned  that  it  was  a  vile  resort  I  was  working 
in ;  and  then  I  fled  one  night,  and  with  a  few  dollars 
in  my  pocket  which  I  had  saved  I  went  first  to  Ogden 
and  then  came  here. 

"I  have  tried  hard  to  get  respectable  work  to  do, 
but  somehow  I  don't  seem  to  be  able  to  hold  a  posi- 
tion long;  and  finally  a  woman  told  me  of  this  place, 
and  how  I  could  make  lots  of  money  here;  and  I 
thought  that  if  I  could  only  save  enough  to  get  back 
East  I  would  do  most  anything.  But,  oh !  I  have 
to  submit  to  such  awful  things  here.  Still,  I  can  do 
it,"  and  the  girl  straightened  up  with  a  decided  little 
shrug.  "I  have  kept  straight  so  far,  and  I  know 
that  I  can  keep  myself  straight,  and  it  pays  well.  I 
have  made  seven  dollars  to-day." 

"But,  girl,"  asked  the  man,  "why  don't  you  write 
to  your  guardian;  he  surely  would  do  something  to 
help  you?" 

"I  don't  know  his  name,"  said  the  girl.  "The 
only  letter  I  had  from  him  he  signed  just  'Your 
Guardian,'  and  said  he  was  going  West." 

"But  your  father's  friends,"  he  said,  "have  you 
not  written  them?" 

"I  don't  know  any  of  them,"  she  replied.  "Papa 
put  me  in  the  boarding-school  as  soon  as  I  was  old 
enough,  and  I  seldom  saw  him,  and  he  never  told  me 
about  his  business.  I  don't  even  know  where  he 
lived,  for  he  wrote  me  from  so  many  different  places. 
I  wrote  back  to  the  school  I  left,  but  no  one  there 
seems  to  know  more  than  I  do.  But  I  guess  I'll  do 
all  right  now;  I  can  make  some  money  here  even  if 
I  don't  like  it." 

"But,  my  child,  the  influences  of  such  a  place  as 
this  must  drag  you  down  very  low." 
6 


82  UNCLE  CARL 

The  girl  suddenly  straightened  up  with  a  strange 
dignity,  and  she  flushed  as  she  replied,  "Sir,  I  have 
kept  myself  clean  so  far  and  I  can  continue  to  do  so. 
I  am  different  from  those,"  and  she  waved  her  hand 
toward  the  girls  on  the  floor  below. 

"Are  you?"  said  the  man.  "How  many  of  those 
girls,  do  you  suppose,  started  with  just  the  confidence 
you  express  in  your  ability  to  keep  clean?  How 
many  of  them  are  straight?" 

"I  don't  know,  sir,"  she  responded;  "but  I  do 
know  that  I  can  make  money  here,  and  keep  myself 
right  too.  I  thought  that  I  might  perhaps  find  a 
friend  in  you,  but  if  you  want  to  preach  I  prefer  to 
leave  you.  I  would  like  to  see  that  picture  though. 
I  don't  know  that  I  would  care  to  have  any  one 
that  knew  me  in  the  old  days  see  a  picture  of  me  as  I 
must  have  looked  in  that  box  yonder;  and  you  have 
no  right  to  publish  it  without  my  consent." 

Poor  child !  Here  was  a  problem.  In  a  fair  way 
to  be  drawn  to  the  lowest  depths,  yet  with  a  pride 
that  would  not  allow  of  a  word  of  caution.  Should 
he  attempt  to  tell  her  of  what  she  would  come  to, 
vileness  of  a  nature  of  which  she  had  yet  had,  com- 
paratively, but  a  faint  glimpse,  it  would  but  repel 
her  from  him.  She  had  a  pride  in  her  own  strength, 
young  girl  as  she  was,  that  would  resent  any  sugges- 
tion that  she  would  fall;  and  she  but  little  realized 
how  insidious  and  unfailing  are  the  continued  in- 
fluences for  evil  to  be  found  in  such  a  place  as  this. 
Finally  he  said  to  her: 

"I  will  not  show  you  the  sketch  now,  I  wish  to 
finish  it  first;  but  I  will  be  here  the  day  after  to- 
morrow, and  if  you  will  come  to  me  I  will  let  you 
see  it,  and  I  promise  to  not  publish  it  without  your 
consent.  I  must  go  now ;  but  first  I  want  to  ask  you 


UNCLE  CARL  83 

to  go  to  your  room  at  once.  I  don't  like  to  think  of 
leaving  you  in  such  a  place." 

"Oh,  I'll  quit  for  to-day,"  she  replied.  "I've 
made  enough  for  to-day  anyhow.  But  I  shall  look 
for  you  day  after  next.  Good  night." 

"Good  night,  girl,"  he  responded,  and  with  a 
final,  searching  look  from  him  they  separated. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

On  the  appointed  evening  our  correspondent  had 
hardly  ensconced  himself  in  the  box  at  the  theatre, 
when,  with  a  timid  knock  at  the  door,  the  young  girl 
who  had  so  interested  him  entered.  The  man  bowed 
gravely,  and  placing  a  chair  for  her  stood  looking 
down  at  the  fair  face,  the  well-shaped  head.  Some- 
how her  forlorn  condition  appealed  strongly  to  him. 
Poor  girl !  Fatherless,  motherless,  friendless,  home- 
less. Her  features,  indicating  a  natural  refinement, 
were  yet,  thus  early  in  life,  beginning  to  show  a  hard- 
ness which  contact  with  a  rough  world  and  careless 
associates  so  surely  brings.  Without  the  uplifting 
hand  of  a  friend  soon,  it  was  easy  to  foretell  the  end ; 
and  yet — he  was  a  man — she  as  yet  a  pure  girl. 
Doubtless  she  would  resent  any  suggestion  from  him 
that  she  would  ever  be  anything  but  pure.  Blind 
she  was;  not  to  the  influences  by  which  she  was  sur- 
rounded, but  to  the  power  of  those  influences  over 
her.  As  one  may  not  remain  in  an  atmosphere  of 
noxious  gases  for  long  and  retain  physical  health,  so 
one  may  not  live  long  with  immoral  associates  and 
retain  the  purity  of  mind,  the  healthy  morals,  the 
high  ideals  which  are  the  best  of  life.  He  felt  confi- 
dent that  she  was  worth  an  effort,  and  it  was  his  pur- 
pose to  save  her  if  he  could. 

"My  girl,"  he  said,  "I  have  brought  the  pictures 
as  I  promised,  but  before  showing  them  to  you  I 
want  to  say  just  a  few  words.  When  I  talked  with 
you  the  other  evening  I  did  not  ask  your  name. 
What  may  I  call  you?" 


UNCLE  CARL  85 

"My  name,"  she  replied,  after  a  moment's  hesita- 
tion, "is  Braton — Hattie  Braton." 

"Well,  Miss  Braton,"  he  said,  "I  am  not  going  to 
preach  to  you.  You  know  what  you  are  doing;  and 
though  you  do  not,  I  think,  realize  what  the  future 
may  have  in  store  for  you  if  you  continue  in  your 
present  course,  yet  I  earnestly  hope  that  you  will 
come  out  all  right.  I  want  you  to  know,  however, 
that  you  have  deeply  interested  me,  and  I  feel  a 
strong  desire  to  see  you  grow  upward;  to  see  you 
surrounded  by  conditions  which  I  feel  sure  are  more 
suitable  to  your  character.  I  wish  to  offer  you  a  real 
friendship;  a  helpful  friendship.  You  will  find  my 
card  with  this  packet,  and  if  after  you  have  examined 
the  pictures  you  should  feel  inclined  to  accept  the 
services  of  a  true  friend,  I  would  be  glad  to  have  you 
call  upon  me.  I  am  going  to  ring  for  the  waiter 
now,  as  the  house  must  have  its  due  for  the  use  of 
this  box."  So  saying,  he  touched  the  bell,  and  a 
waiter  appearing  he  gave  an  order  for  liquor.  Pay- 
ing the  reckoning,  and,  when  the  servitor  had  left, 
emptying  the  wine  on  the  floor,  he  continued : 

"I  want  you  to  examine  these  pictures  by  yourself; 
to  think;  to  meditate.  I  shall  leave  the  house  now, 
but  will  see  that  you  remain  undisturbed.  Remem- 
ber that  you  may  call  on  me  if  you  want  such  a  friend 
as  I.  And  if  you  think  that  you  can  fully  trust  me, 
I  may  be  able  to  help  you." 

The  girl  had  sat  quietly  listening,  impressed  not  so 
much  by  what  he  said  as  by  his  manner.  "I  thank 
you,"  she  said,  "for  your  kind  wishes;  but  I  think 
that  I  will  be  able  to  take  care  .of  myself.  However, 
if  I  should  need  a  friend  I  believe  that  you  would 
be  one  that  I  could  trust. 

"Well,  I  will  bid  you  good  night,"  said  he,  "and 


86  UNCLE  CARL 

will  hope  to  see  you  again,"  and  placing  the  packet 
in  her  hands  he  abruptly  left.  Outside  the  door  he 
beckoned  to  the  waiter,  and  putting  a  coin  in  his 
palm  directed  that  the  girl  be  not  disturbed  for  half 
an  hour,  and  left  the  house. 

The  girl,  thus  left  alone,  slowly  untied  the  twine 
about  the  package.  "An  unusual  man,"  she  thought, 
"a  strong  man,  and  I  think  a  good  one.  But  he  is 
much  mistaken  if  he  thinks  that  I  cannot  take  care 
of  myself.  Only,  I  am  so  lonely !  Oh !  papa,  papa, 
why  did  you  leave  me  in  charge  of  a  guardian  who 
cares  so  little  what  becomes  of  me!"  and  the  tears 
formed  in  the  brown  eyes.  "If  I  only  had  a  home 
and  some  one  to  care  for  and  to  care  for  me.  Some- 
thing to  work  for  besides  just  bread  and  butter.  But 
out  in  this  country  every  hand  seems  to  be  against 
me,  except  those  hands  which  I  shudder  at  when  they 
touch  me.  Oh,  for  one  clean,  honest  friend !" 

Removing  the  wrapper  she  found  the  contents  of 
the  package  to  be  four  excellently  executed  pen 
sketches,  which  at  first  so  angered  her  that  she 
started  impulsively  to  tear  them  across.  But  she 
hesitated,  attracted  by  the  clean,  bold  strokes  that 
showed,  even  to  her  untrained  eyes,  the  hand  of  a 
true  artist;  and  as  she  studied  them  more  closely 
the  real  meaning  of  the  pictures  and  the  intent  of  the 
man  in  giving  them  to  her  unfolded. 

The  sketches  formed  a  series,  the  first  of  which 
represented  a  young  couple  walking  down  a  passage- 
way which  she  recognized  as  of  the  floridly  orna- 
mented "Theatre  Comique."  Their  backs  were 
turned,  the  man's  arm  approaching  the  girl's  waist, 
and  the  title  was,  "Let's  take  a  box."  The  second 
of  the  series  was  labelled  "In  the  Box,"  and  was  the 
scene  which  the  man  was  sketching  when  she  first 


UNCLE  CARL  87 

saw  him ;  and  she  shamefacedly  turned  it  over.  The 
artist  had  succeeded  in  reproducing  the  features  of 
the  young  couple  with  exactitude,  and  she  felt  again 
the  shudder  as  her  companion  had  drawn  her  reluct- 
ant form  to  his  knee.  Yet  it  was  a  matter  of  "busi- 
ness"; he  expected  to  be  allowed  such  familiarity  in 
return  for  buying  the  "drinks" ;  and  it  was  from 
the  sale  of  the  "drinks"  that  she  derived  her  checks. 
But  it  was  awful,  after  all,  to  see  it  pictured  out  in 
all  of  its  horrid  reality  like  this.  Surely,  she  would 
never  allow  this  to  be  published. 

She  turned  to  the  third  of  the  series.  This  was  a 
double  sketch,  labelled  "The  Next  Day."  The  left 
half  represented  an  office  with  a  desk  covered  with 
the  morning's  mail;  a  clock  on  the  wall  indicated 
the  hour  of  twelve.  At  the  desk  sat  her  companion 
of  the  box,  his  face  showing  the  effects  of  a  night's 
dissipation,  his  dress  untidy,  his  hair  ruffled  as  he 
lounged  over  his  work;  and  the  words  "Unfit  for 
Business"  were  written  underneath.  The  right  half 
represented  the  sleeping  apartment  of  the  girl — im- 
aginary, of  course.  The  clock  on  the  dresser  marked 
the  hour  of  twelve,  the  clothing  carelessly  thrown 
over  a  chair  and  littering  the  floor,  and  the  girl  still 
in  bed,  yawning  and  stretching  her  arms.  Her  eyes 
were  bloodshot,  her  face  indicating  a  languid  wretch- 
edness, and  underneath,  the  words,  "Well,  I  made 
seven  dollars  out  of  him,  anyhow." 

The  fourth  sketch,  also  a  double  one,  was  labelled 
"Five  Years  After."  The  left  half  showing  the  man 
in  a  prison  cell,  the  right  half  showing  the  girl,  be- 
draggled and  hard  of  feature,  sitting  on  the  curb- 
stone before  a  dilapidated  "dance  house,"  her  feet  in 
the  gutter,  while  a  burly  policeman  was  saying  to 
her,  "Come  now,  move  on  or  I'll  run  you  in." 


88  UNCLE  CARL 

As  the  full  meaning  of  these  prophetic  pictures 
dawned  upon  her,  the  girl's  face,  at  first  flushed  with 
anger,  assumed  a  subdued  reflective  expression;  and 
then  her  eyes  filled  with  big  tears  as  she  leaned  her 
cheek  against  her  palm,  her  elbow  on  the  wine- 
stained  table  before  her,  and  looked  unseeingly  at  the 
vulgar  dancer  on  the  stage,  and  heard  without  heed- 
ing the  strident  tones  of  an  indelicate  song. 

"My  God!  Is  it  true?  Is  that  what  I  am  coming 
to?  I  feel  that  he  is  right;  and  yet  I  was  so  sure 
that  I  could  keep  pure,  until  I  saw  him.  And  if  he 
would  only  preach  like  other  people  I  would  be  sure 
yet.  I  could  defend  myself  if  he  talked  to  me;  but 
these  pictures,  they  are  so  real.  Oh!  what  shall  I 
do,  what  can  I  do!"  and  the  poor,  lonely  victim 
buried  her  face  in  her  arms  and  sobbed. 

Fathers,  mothers,  guardians,  all  of  you  who  have 
the  responsibility  laid  upon  you  of  guiding  a  human 
life,  ask  yourselves  if  you  have  any  excuse  for  ne- 
glecting in  any  degree  those  safeguards  which  shall 
keep  the  young  souls  in  a  pure  atmosphere,  until  with 
mature  years  and  clear  vision  they  can  map  out  their 
own  course.  Do  not  overlook  the  possibility  of  your 
plans  failing.  Hattie  Braton's  father  had  no  expecta- 
tion of  dying;  and  so,  overlooking  the  possibility  of 
the  miscarriage  of  his  plans,  neglected  the  very  ordi- 
nary precaution  of  informing  his  child  and  her  in- 
structors of  his  home  and  condition.  A  sin ;  a  great 
sin,  of  neglect.  Her  guardian,  without  thought  of 
the  possibility  of  evil  consequences,  was  equally 
guilty.  Not  even  his  name  given  in  his  letters  to  his 
ward,  delegating  his  powers  to  still  a  third  party, 
when  his  duty  was  to  be  personally  assured  of  her 
well-being. 

Had  these  two  done  their  full  duty  we  would  not 


UNCLE  CARL  89 

have  before  us  this  poor,  forlorn,  forsaken  little  girl, 
sobbing  amidst  the  wretched  debauchery  of  this  evil 
place. 

As  the  girl  finally  raised  her  tear-washed  face  and 
gathered  up  the  sketches,  a  card  fell  upon  the  table. 
She  picked  it  up  and  read, 

"CARL  ENGLEWOOD, 

^'Correspondent  New  York  S — , 

"Room  1 8,  Asman  Hotel." 


CHAPTER  IX 

"Here,  youse  knuckle  down !"  cried  a  boy's  voice. 
"I  be  knucklin'  down,"  was  the  rejoinder  as  an 
"alley"  shot  across  the  rude  circle  scratched  in  a 
level  stretch  of  ground,  in  the  suburbs  of  the  city  of 
Rock  Gulch,  Montana.  A  half-dozen  little  street- 
arabs  were  gathered  together,  intent  on  one  of  the 
familiar  old  games  of  "mibs" ;  and  their  voices  rose 
high  in  altercation  as  they  differed  in  their  opinion  as 
to  the  respective  fairness  of  the  several  players.  Sud- 
denly there  was  a  push,  a  scuffle,  and  then  two  of  the 
number  were  rolling  over  and  over  in  a  boyish  fight. 
One  of  the  boys,  somewhat  larger  in  size  than  the 
combatants,  started  in  to  separate  the  fighters.  Seiz- 
ing each  by  a  shoulder  he  strove  to  pull  them  apart, 
at  the  same  time  apostrophizing  them  for  breaking 
up  the  game. 

"Youse  gol  darned  kids  is  allus  a  scrappin' !"  he 
cried.  "W'y  the  deuce  don't  you  play  fair!  One  er 
t'other  on  you  keeps  niggin'  ever'  chanc't  you  git." 

"Jack  started  it,"  said  one;  "he  swiped  my  mib, 
an'  he  didn't  even  hit  it." 

"I  did  too  hit  it!"  said  Jack.  "I  knocked  it  clean 
outen  the  ring." 

"You  gol  darn  fool,"  said  the  other,  "you  didn't 
neither;  you  didn't  knuckle  down  neither,  'nd  I  kin 
jest  knock  the  daylights  outen  you." 

"Come  on  then !"  retorted  Jack.  "I  don't  'low  no 
kid  to  call  me  a  fool,"  and  the  two  struggled  to  re- 
new the  contest,  when  one  of  the  onlookers  suddenly 
cried : 

"Shet  up,  you  fellers,  here  comes  a  parson." 


UNCLE  CARL  91 

The  boys  suddenly  stopped  their  noisy  quarrel  and 
stood  about  the  circle,  as  a  tall  gentleman,  dressed 
neatly  in  black,  drew  near. 

"Parson  be  blowed !"  said  the  boy  who  had  parted 
the  fighters.  "That  ain't  no  parson;  that's  the  swell 
guy  that  took  some  uv  us  kids  to  the  play  the  other 
night.  He's  all  right,  too,  you  bet !  Me,  an'  Jack, 
an'  Pete  Sims,  an'  Skinny  Nelson,  an'  three  or  four 
other  kids  was  lookin'  at  the  show  bills  an'  wishin' 
we  c'ud  git  in,  w'en  he  come  along  an'  said  he'd  take 
us  all  in.  An'  he  did  too.  An'  he  didn't  git  no  nig- 
ger heaven  seats  neither,  jest  took  us  right  inter  the 
front  row.  He's  all  right,  he  is,  but  he  ain't  no  par- 
son." 

"Bet  yer  life  he's  all  right,  Ralph!"  said  Jack. 
"An'  I  kin  lick  the  stuffin'  out  uv  any  kid  as  says  he 
ain't." 

The  gentleman,  as  he  reached  the  boys,  stopped 
with  a  "Good  morning,  boys;  having  a  game  of 
mibs?" 

"Yes,  sir,"  said  Ralph;  "leastways  we  was  playin', 
but  the  kids  got  to  scrappin'  an'  so  the  game  is 
broke  up." 

"Broke  up,  is  it?"  said  Carl  Englewood,  for  he  it 
was.  "Well,  well !  Always  play  fair,  boys,  and  then 
there'll  be  no  need  to  fight.  I  used  to  like  to  play 
mibs  myself,"  he  added  musingly.  "Shouldn't  won- 
der if  I  could  play  a  pretty  good  game  yet.  Lend 
me  a  mib,  Ralph,  and  let's  see  what  kind  of  a  shot  I 
can  make."  Putting  a  marble  in  the  center  of  the 
circle  and  giving  Carl  a  "shooter,"  Ralph  said: 

"Youse  got  ter  knuckle  down,  mister;  anybody 
can  hit  it  if  he  don't  knuckle  down." 

Carl  shot  and  missed,  and  the  boys  nudged  each 
other  and  grinned  as  he  tried  again  and  again, 


92  UNCLE  CARL 

finally  hitting  the  mark  squarely  and  knocking  it 
clear  out  of  the  ring.  "My  fingers  are  a  little  stiff," 
he  said.  "I  haven't  played  mibs  since  I  was  a  boy; 
but  I  really  believe  that  I  would  like  to  play  a  game. 
Come  on,  all  of  you,  let's  see  who's  the  best  player." 

The  boys  gleefully,  wonderingly  placed  their 
marbles  in  the  ring;  and  soon  all  were  deeply  en- 
grossed in  the  game.  Once  Jack  tried  to  cheat  a 
little,  but  Carl's  quiet,  "Play  fair,  my  boy,  play  fair; 
that's  always  best  in  the  long  run,"  shamed  him  into 
good  behavior.  So  busy  were  they  that  they  were 
oblivious  to  the  fact  that  a  man  had  stopped  a  few 
feet  distant  and  was  watching  with  amazement  the 
immaculate  Englewood,  as  he  stooped  down  to  make 
a  difficult  shot.  Striking  the  mark  fairly,  the  boys, 
forgetting  that  he  was  not  himself  a  boy,  shouted 
with  approval,  "Youse  is  all  right!  Hurray  for  you, 
that's  a  good  un!  You  ain't  no  slouch." 

As  the  noise  subsided  the  players  were  startled  by 
the  voice  of  the  waiting  gentleman. 

"Mr.  Englewood,"  he  said,  "when  you  can  spare 
the  time,  may  I  speak  with  you  ?" 

"Certainly,"  said  Carl.  "We  are  just  about 
through  here.  Well,  boys,  I  guess  you've  beaten  me 
fairly.  Now  come  with  me  and  I'll  treat.  Mr. 
Stuart,  if  you'll  walk  down  to  the  corner  with  us  I'll 
be  at  your  service  in  a  moment.  Come  boys." 

And  followed  by  the  boys  the  two  men  made  their 
way  to  a  nearby  drug  store,  where  ice-cream-soda 
was  duly  served  to  the  youngsters.  After  the  men 
had  disappeared,  Ralph  Deneen,  who  was  an 
acknowledged  leader  of  his  associates,  voiced  the 
sentiments  of  the  boys  by  saying : 

"Didn't  I  tell  youse  he's  all  right?  He  ain't  no 
cheap  skate.  He's  a  gent,  he  is.  'Nd  if  he  ever 


UNCLE  CARL  93 

wants  to  play  with  my  shinny  club  youse  bet  he  kin. 
He's  all  right,  he  is!" 

"You  bet  he's  all  right!"  the  others  repeated. 

"You  are  a  strange  man,  Englewood,"  said  Mr. 
Stuart,  as  the  two  walked  toward  their  hotel.  "Who 
would  ever  think  that  such  a  dignified,  sober-looking 
man  as  you  would  be  found  playing  marbles  with 
a  lot  of  dirty  children;  on  the  public  highway,  too. 
I  don't  understand  how  you  could  do  it.  I  know  that 
I  wouldn't  do  it  for  a  thousand  dollars." 

"Why  wouldn't  you?"  asked  Englewood.  "Any- 
thing wrong  in  it?" 

"Nothing  criminal,  I  guess,"  said  Stuart,  smiling; 
"but  so  lowering  to  one's  dignity;  so  silly,  it  seems 
to  me.  What  would  people  think  to  see  you  in  such 
a  ridiculous  position." 

"What  matters  it  what  people  think,  if  they  do 
not  know  the  motives?  But,  since  you  ask  the  ques- 
tion,— what  do  you  think  of  it?  Do  you  respect  me 
any  the  less,  has  your  regard  changed  in  the  least 
degree,  are  you  in  any  measure  ashamed  to  be  seen 
walking  with  a  full-grown  man  who  likes  to  play 
mibs  with  the  boys?" 

"No;  oh,  no!  Not  that,"  answered  Stuart.  "But 
I  know  you;  you  are  so  different  from  any  man  I 
have  known,  and  yet,  I — well,  I  couldn't  do  such  a 
thing  as  that;  it  is  so  undignified,  to  say  the  least." 

"Now,  do  you  know,"  replied  Englewood,  "I  de- 
cidedly disagree  with  you  !  Dignity  is  something  more 
than  conventional  austerity;  it  is  an  upright,  clean, 
strong  character  that  is  the  basis  of  all  true  dignity. 
The  person  who  possesses  that  lends  a  dignity  to  all 
that  he  undertakes;  and  nothing  that  he  does,  no 
employments,  amusements,  occupations,  can  detract 
from  his  dignity  so  long  as  he  remains  pure;  rather, 


94  UNCLE  CARL 

he  adds  a  dignity  to  his  employment.  I  think  that 
the  undignified  man  is  the  one  who,  in  his  heart, 
longs  for  certain  pleasures  or  employments,  in  them- 
selves clean,  and  refrains  from  indulgence  only  for 
fear  the  world  would  judge  him  puerile.  I  doubt  if 
the  man  lives  who,  having  been  a  boy, — a  real,  live 
boy, — does  not  sometimes  recall  those  days  with 
pleasure  and  really  feel  a  wish  to  indulge  again  in 
the  innocent  games  of  childhood.  Every  right- 
minded  man,  I  think,  has  such  feelings.  There  is 
nothing  dishonorable,  nothing  undignified,  I  think,  in 
that  feeling.  Why  then  conceal  it  as  a  something  of 
which  to  be  ashamed?  Simply,  I  think,  that  a  man 
wants  to  appear  to  be  what  he  is  not;  all  serious 
brain  and  no  heart  to  speak  of;  no  fresh,  loyal  sym- 
pathy for  the  nonsense  of  life  which  gives  a  rest,  and 
adds  strength  and  zest  for  the  pursuit  of  the  more 
sober  duties.  Just  a  bit  of  hypocrisy,  is  it  not?  The 
true  man  need  have  no  fear  that  he  will  lose  respect 
or  dignity  by  acting  his  life  as  it  is  within  him.  It 
is  only  the  man  untrue  or  in  doubt,  who  cringes  be- 
fore public  opinion." 

"That  may  all  be  so,"  replied  Stuart;  "but  is  it 
not  also  true  that  people  cannot,  by  the  very  limita- 
tions of  their  intellect,  judge  of  the  character  of  a 
man  save  as  his  actions  show  what  may  be  in  him? 
A  man  who,  for  instance,  plays  marbles  with  a  lot 
of  ignorant  rag-a-muffins,, — pardon  me,  I  do  not 
mean  to  irritate  you,  I  only  seize  the  illustration  at 
hand, — while  his  dress  and  manner  indicate  him  to 
be  a  man  of  some  probable  consequence  in  the  world. 
Would  not  the  people  be  justified  in  thinking  that  a 
man  who  can  so  lightly  regard  ordinary  convention- 
alities would  also  lightly  regard  the  conventionalities 
in  the  serious  affairs  of  life?  Would  you  not  your- 


UNCLE  CARL  95 

self  prefer  to  trust  your  important  affairs  to  the  man 
who,  by  steady,  persevering,  hard-headed  energy  has 
proved  his  ability  to  work  out  his  problems  success- 
fully; rather  than  to  the  man  who,  no  matter  what 
his  ability,  shows  himself  ready  to  be  swayed  by  the 
fleeting  emotions  of  the  minute?  I  hold  that  con- 
ventionality, while  often  made  to  cover  the  real 
self,  yet  serves  a  good  purpose,  a  necessary  purpose ; 
and  that  a  man  shows  a  lack  of  inner  as  well  as  outer 
dignity  who*  too  flagrantly  disregards  its  rules." 

"There  is  truth  in  what  you  say,"  replied  Engle- 
wood.  "But  because  it  does  not  cover  all  of  the 
truth  it  is  deceptive.  Without  question  the  conven- 
tions of  society  are  necessary,  and  we  should  all  con- 
form to  them  in  great  measure ;  but  not  to  the  extent 
of  losing  our  individuality.  Those  who  abide  hard 
and  fast  by  the  set  rules  of  conventional  life  become 
mere  machines;  all  alike  in  the  fear  that  some  one 
may  think  them  human  beings,  with  the  power  of  in- 
dividual thought  and  action;  afraid  to  take  advan- 
tage of  opportunities  to  increase  the  sunshine  in  life 
for  a  'lot  of  ignorant  rag-a-muffins,'  as  you  call  them, 
for  fear  that  some  one  may  think  they  have  a  heart 
filled  with  love  for  humanity,  and  emotions  that  force 
a  sympathy  for  even  the  childish  joys  and  sorrows. 
I  can  answer  your  query  in  the  decided  negative.  I 
would  not  prefer  the  haughty,  hard-headed  man  as 
my  man  of  business  to  the  intelligent  man  who  re- 
members his  childhood.  I  prefer  the  man  of  heart 
to  the  man  of  ice  in  business  affairs,  even  if  less  suc- 
cessful financially.  For  I  believe  that  the  man  of 
heart  is  much  nearer  being  a  man  of  honor,  than  is 
the  man  who  stultifies  all  of  the  nobler  emotions  on 
the  plea  that  business  must  necessarily  be  soulless. 
Nor  do  I  concede  that  the  people  would  have  any 


96  UNCLE  CARL 

right  to  judge;  nor  do  I  believe  that  many  would 
judge  adversely  the  man  who  takes  delight  in  getting 
out  with  the  children,  playing  childish  games  with 
them,  and  dancing  and  yelling  like  an  Indian,  getting 
and  giving  genuine  pleasure  by  his  antics.  It  is  a 
brief  relaxation  which  all  men  need;  and  I  am  sorry 
for  the  man  who  is  incapable  of  it.  Whether  it  be 
public  or  private  makes  no  difference.  It  is  nothing 
of  which  to  be  ashamed.  No  one  whose  opinion  is 
of  value  will  respect  him  less;  many  will  even  envy 
him  his  ability  to  throw  care  to  the  winds  for  the 
moment.  No  one  whose  judgment  is  of  value  will 
estimate  his  character  from  this  moment  of  non- 
sense, for  it  is  only  one  small  phase  of  his  life.  But 
let  this  be  remembered :  in  the  moment  of  relaxation, 
as  well  as  in  the  serious  work  of  life,  the  real  char- 
acter of  every  man  is  in  some  measure  shown.  The 
man  who  walks  through  a  garden  of  beautiful  flow- 
ers and  the  man  who  passes  through  a  glue  factory, 
must  each  carry  with  him  some  of  the  odor  in  his 
garments.  And  so  the  man  of  purity  and  truth  will 
add  dignity  and  carry  a  fragrance  even  into  a  game 
of  'hide  and  seek';  and  the  man  of  impurity  and 
dishonor  will  carry  a  foulness  even  into  the  most  ele- 
vated social  circles.  A  man's  nature  will  show  itself 
in  spite  of  all  conventionalities." 

UA11  of  this  is  true  enough  in  theory,"  replied 
Stuart,  "but  you  must  admit  that  in  the  major  affairs 
of  life  much  must  be  kept  secret.  Your  position  is 
an  ideal  one.  Things  should  be  as  you  say,  but  you 
well  know  that  they  are  not  so.  But  few  people  look 
at  life  as  you  do,  and  it  is  necessary  in  order  to  suc- 
ceed in  life  to  cover  up  our  real  selves;  to  be  'hypo- 
crites,' as  you  call  it.  Otherwise,  there  would  be  no 
great  progression,  either  in  the  business  or  social 


UNCLE  CARL  97 

world.  The  statesman  could  never  accomplish  much 
if  he  told  all  the  world  every  detail  of  his  work;  be- 
cause the  world  would  surely  misinterpret." 

"Again  I  disagree;  but,"  said  Englewood,  "I  am 
glad  that,  by  inference,  you  concede  that  it  is  not  a 
question  of  dignity  so  much  as  expediency  that  you 
raise.  I  do  not  hold  that  all  means  to  a  given  end 
should  always  be  divulged;  for,  as  you  say,  many, 
not  understanding,  would  misjudge.  But  the  char- 
acter of  the  man  who  makes  use  of  means  to  accom- 
plish certain  results  should  be  known  fully.  The 
people  are  not  blind;  they  can  see  and  feel  and  know 
whether  a  man  is  trustworthy  or  not;  and  if  he  is 
clean,  and  pure,  and  able,  they  will  trust  him  with 
the  work.  As  Dickens  has  said,  'All  good  ends  can 
be  worked  out  by  good  means.  Those  that  cannot 
are  bad.'  No  man  has  a  right  to  assume  a  character 
that  he  has  not.  Hypocrisy  is  a  sin  with  which  I 
have  no  patience.  'That  alone  is  worth  striving  for 
which  is  clean  and  without  a  single  fold  of  duplicity,' 
and  if  I  want  to  play  a  game  of  blind-man's-buff,  I 
shall  not,  for  fear  of  losing  my  dignity,  try  to  im- 
press upon  the  world  that  I  am  above  such  childish- 
ness. He  really  loses  dignity  who  assumes  a  hypo- 
critical aloofness.  He  is  respected  no  more  and  must 
respect  himself  less." 

Having  now  arrived  at  the  hotel,  Englewood  in- 
vited Stuart  to  his  rooms;  and  they  were  soon  en- 
gaged in  planning  a  visit  of  inspection  to  a  mine,  in 
which  friends  of  Carl  in  the  East  were  interested  as 
prospective  purchasers.  A  representative  from  Chi- 
cago was  to  meet  with  them  on  the  morrow,  and 
Englewood  had  been  requested  to  make  one  of  the 
party  to  visit  the  property.  As  the  two  men  were 

7 


98  UNCLE  CARL 

about  to  separate,  a  call-boy  appeared  with  the  an- 
nouncement that  a  young  lady  was  in  the  reception- 
room  and  wished  to  speak  with  Mr.  Englewood. 

Promising  to  meet  Stuart  and  the  representative 
the  following  afternoon,  Englewood  proceeded  to 
the  room  designated,  and  was  surprised  as  well  as 
pleased  to  find  awaiting  him  the  young  girl  he  had 
met  at  the  "Theatre  Comique." 


CHAPTER  X 

As  Mr.  Englewood  entered  the  reception-room  of 
the  hotel,  Hattie  Braton  rose  from  the  chair  in  which 
she  had  been  seated,  and  stood  before  him  half- 
defiantly,  yet  with  such  a  woe-begone  expression,  such 
a  tired,  hungry,  yearning  picture  of  a  friendless, 
hopeless,  despairing  struggler,  that  his  heart  went 
out  to  her  in  instant  sympathy.  He  advanced 
quickly  toward  her  and  extended  his  hand. 

"I  am  glad  to  see  you,  Miss  Braton,"  he  said; 
"for  I  feel  sure  that  you  are  going  to  allow  me  to 
help  you." 

"Oh,  Mr.  Englewood,"  the  girl  replied,  as  she 
placed  her  hand  in  his,  "you  must  think  me  a  bold 
thing  to  come  to  you  in  this  way ;  but  I  am  so  lonely 
and  have  no  friends  whom  I  can  trust,  that  I  didn't 
know  what  else  to  do." 

"Say  no  more  of  that,"  said  Englewood.  "I  know 
your  surroundings,  something  of  your  trials.  Ordi- 
narily it  would  be  taking  a  grave  risk  to  come  to  an 
entire  stranger  in  this  way,  but  I  had  hoped  that  I 
could  impress  you  with  the  sincerity  of  my  wish  to 
help  you,  and  perhaps  inspire  you  with  a  desire  to  be 
helped.  Your  being  here  is  some  proof  that  I  suc- 
ceeded." 

"'Succeeded'!"  said  she.  "Yes,  indeed!  Do 
you  know,  if  you  had  told  me  in  words  what  you 
said  with  your  pen  sketches,  I  would  have  turned  a 
deaf  ear.  But  your  pictures  were  so  horribly  real; 
and  I  had  been  left  alone  with  them  with  no  one  to 
defend  myself  to,  that  somehow  their  awful  truth 
possessed  me.  I  have  left  that  house.  Indeed,  since 


ioo  UNCLE  CARL 

I  saw  you  first  I  have  not  been  back  there  save  to 
keep  my  appointment  with  you  last  night.  But,  oh, 
what  can  I  do?  I  have  no  skilled  profession,  no 
way  of  earning  a  living.  No  friend  to  help,  unless 
you  who  have  seemed  to  see  my  need  can  help  me." 

"That  is  what  I  wish  to  do,  child,  if  I  can,"  said 
he.  "I  am  no  churchman,  but  there  are  many  things 
in  the  Good  Book  to  which  I  cling.  There  is  one, 
'Place  not  a  stumbling-block  before  the  blind.'  You 
have  been  very  unfortunate,  yet,  believing  in  your 
own  strength,  you  have  been  blind  to  the  'stumbling- 
blocks'  which  have  been  before  you.  It  was  my  wish 
first  to  open  your  eyes  to  the  pit  into  which  they 
would  cause  you  to  fall;  and  my  sketches  were 
for  that  end.  Now  I  believe  that  there  is  an  unwrit- 
ten command  necessary  to  complete  the  negative  law 
I  have  quoted.  'Remove  the  stumbling-blocks  from 
the  path  of  those  who  have  not  the  strength  to  sur- 
mount them.'  You  seem  to  be  in  this  condition,  and 
I  am  ready  to  clear  your  path  for  you  if  you  are 
really  willing  to  trust  yourself  to  me." 

"I  do  trust  you  wholly,"  said  the  girl.  "I  believe 
that  you  are  a  good  man ;  but  I  have  no  claim  upon 
you,  no  right  to  become  a  burden  to  you.  Yet,  I 
want  you  for  a  friend,  and  will  be  glad  if  you  can 
show  me  how  to  live  respectably." 

"You  will  be  no  great  burden  to  me,  I  think,"  re- 
plied Englewood.  "I  purpose,  to  be  sure,  to  ad- 
vance a  little  money  for  you,  provided,  of  course, 
that  my  plan  meets  with  your  approval.  But  it  is 
only  as  a  loan.  You  will,  I  am  sure,  be  able  to  re- 
turn it.  I  am  not  going  to  destroy  your  independence 
by  giving  you  charity.  The  first  thing  is  to  get  you 
away  from  these  surroundings.  I  purpose  sending 
you  East  to  a  friend  of  mine,  a  man  of  family,  whose 


UNCLE  CARL  101 

wife  will  be  more  than  glad  to  help  you  as  she  has 
many  others.  You  will  there  be  so  conditioned  as  to 
fit  yourself  for  your  proper  place  in  life.  A  posi- 
tion, I  believe,  that  will  enable  you  to  do  for  others 
much  more  than  I  am  doing  for  you." 

"Oh,  how  good  you  are!"  cried  the  girl.  "But  it 
is  too  much  to  accept  from  you.  The  expense  will  be 
quite  a  good  deal  and  it  may  be  years  before  I  could 
repay  you." 

"And  who  told  you,"  said  Englewood,  "that  I  am 
not  well  able  to  spare  the  necessary  expense.  I  ex- 
pect you  to  repay  the  cash  outlay  with  interest.  I  am 
seldom  at  fault  in  judging  character,  and  I  think 
that,  once  in  your  proper  atmosphere,  you  will  suc- 
ceed in  conquering  circumstances,  will  keep  a  high, 
pure  independence,  and  will  pay  back  every  dollar 
that  I  may  advance.  And  I  will  take  a  great  satis- 
faction in  feeling  that  I  have  helped  to  place  you  in 
a  position  to  do  good  work  and  to  assist  other  un- 
fortunates to  surmount  the  obstacles  to  successful  liv- 
ing. There  are  many  things  in  life  better  worth 
striving  for  than  money,  though  that  is  a  very  con- 
venient and  necessary  article  to  have.  One  of  the 
chief  of  these  is  character  building;  and  I  hope  to 
find  in  you  a  skillful  architect  in  that  kind  of  work." 

"I'll  try  to — yes,  and  I'll  succeed,"  said  the  girl. 
"I  accept  your  kindness  and  thank  you  so  much. 
You  have  saved  me  from —  Oh!"  with  a  burst  of 
emotion,  "what  a  noble  man  you — " 

"There,  there!"  interrupted  Englewood,  "none  of 
that.  Such  an  adjective  is  unpleasant  to  me.  I  am 
helping  you,  I  know.  .  I  accept  your  gratitude  in 
moderation,  and  am  sure  that  you  will  prove  more 
than  worthy  of  what  I  do  for  you.  And  now  for  de- 
tails. Can  you  be  ready  to  start  to-morrow?" 


102  UNCLE  CARL 

"Yes,"  said  she.  "I  have  nothing  to  keep  me 
here." 

"Well,  be  ready  then  to  take  the  1.30  train.  Per- 
haps it  will  be  as  well  for  you  to  come  here  about 
half  past  twelve  and  I'll  go  down  with  you  and  see 
you  safely  off.  Now,  you  will  have  some  baggage; 
and,  by  the  way,  excuse  me  if  I  hurt,  have  you  any 
ready  money?" 

"Yes,  said  Miss  Braton,  "enough  to  do  all  that  I 
need  to  here." 

"Well,"  said  he,  "I'll  send  some  one  to  your  lodg- 
ing to  help  you  out  with  your  luggage;  perhaps  he 
had  better  go  with  you  when  you  go  back."  Engle- 
wood,  who  was  absently  looking  out  of  the  window 
as  he  said  this,  suddenly  stepped  forward  and  tapped 
sharply  on  the  pane,  and  as  a  boy  who  was  passing 
looked  up,  motioned  him  to  come  in.  A  moment 
later  our  young  leader  of  the  street  arabs  entered 
the  room. 

"Ah,  Ralph,"  said  Englewood,  "I've  a  job  for 
you.  Can  you  spare  the  time,  or  have  you  something 
else  on  hand?" 

"Bet  yer  life,  I  kin  spare  the  time,"  said  Ralph. 
"Anything  youse  want  done  I  kin  allus  find  time  fer. 
You're  all  right,  you  bet!" 

"Well,"  laughed  Englewood,  "that  sounds  good. 
This,"  turning  to  the  girl,  "is  a  staunch  little  friend 
of  mine,  Miss  Braton,  and  will  serve  you  well. 
Ralph,  I  want  you  to  go  with  this  young  lady  and 
help  her  with  her  luggage  and  run  any  errands  she 
may  want,  and  do  anything  else  to  help  her  that  you 
can.  And,  to-morrow,  see  that  she  gets  here  with 
her  trunk  by  half-past  twelve." 

"You  bet  I  will,  sir,"  said  Ralph,  backing  away 
as  Englewood  offered  him  a  coin.  "But  I  ain't  a 


UNCLE  CARL  103 

?>in'  to  take  no  money  fer  it.  No,  sir;  not  from  you. 
ou're  all  right,  you  are." 

"Very  well,"  said  Englewood.  "I'll  get  even  with 
you  some  way.  And  now,  good  afternoon,  Miss 
Braton.  Keep  up  heart  and  we'll  get  safely  out  of 
the  woods  yet." 

Returning  to  his  desk,  Englewood  settled  down 
to  his  correspondence,  working  steadily  for  some 
hours,  save  as  he  was  interrupted  from  time  to  time 
by  callers.  It  was  ten  o'clock  before  he  laid  down 
his  pen,  and  taking  a  cigar  from  his  pocket  lighted 
it,  and  seating  himself  by  the  open  window  lapsed 
into  reverie. 

It  was  a  clear,  beautiful  night  above.  Not  a  cloud 
obscured  the  intense  blue-blackness  of  the  heavens, 
studded  with  the  infinite  blazonry  of  the  star- 
legions,  whose  brightness  in  that  high,  clear  atmos- 
phere made  them  seem  almost  within  reach.  The 
peace  and  purity  of  the  night  above,  however,  was 
in  sharp  contrast  to  the  thousand  sounds  of  a  night 
in  what  has  been  called  "the  greatest  mining  camp 
and  wickedest  city  on  earth."  The  hoarse  voices  of 
drunken  revelers,  the  hard,  high-pitched  tones  of 
wantons  in  search  of  prey,  the  orchestral  music  from 
the  numerous  play-houses,  and  the  cracked  discords 
from  the  open  doors  of  the  saloons  and  beer-halls; 
the  clink  of  glasses,  the  rattle  of  dice,  the  sharp  click 
of  billiard  balls  and  the  low  rumble  of  the  bowling 
alleys,  all  mingled  in  a  distracting  chaos  of  sound, 
broken  occasionally  by  the  hard  tones  of  an  officer 
of  the  law,  as  he  ordered  some  too  boisterous  or 
pugilistically  inclined  peace-wreckers  to  move  on. 

The  life  of  these  great  Western  cities,  builded 
upon  a  thirst  for  gold,  is  one  of  almost  unbelievable 
extremes  of  good  and  evil.  "Jekyll  and  Hyde"  com- 


104  UNCLE  CARL 

binations  of  character,  though  often  without  the  de- 
ceit of  either  personality,  are  common.  Men,  hun- 
dreds, thousands  of  them,  with  great  courage,  noble 
impulses,  rare  unselfishness  and  self-denial;  men 
who  will  part  with  their  last  dollar  to  help  the  un- 
fortunate, will  go  hungry  themselves  that  a  dumb 
brute  may  feed;  ofttimes  with  high  education,  good 
judgment  in  business  and  patient  plodding  persever- 
ance, will  go  out  for  a  night  of  so-called  pleasure, 
will  throw  themselves  into  the  vortex  of  the  lowest 
sins  of  drink  and  debauchery,  peopling  the  gambling 
halls  and  seeking  the  vilest  dens  of  infamy.  As 
reckless  of  virtue  apparently  as  they  are,  in  other 
moments,  reckless  of  personal  privation  and  suffer- 
ing, when  their  hearts  are  attuned  to  the  harmonies 
of  the  higher  life.  The  very  atmosphere  seems  to 
be  permeated  with  speculation.  Mining  itself,  upon 
which  the  prosperity  is  largely  builded,  is  little  other 
than  an  enthralling  game  of  chance  in  which  thou- 
sands lose  all  that  they  can  earn,  while  the  few  suc- 
ceed in  winning  fortunes.  A  man  poor  to-day  some- 
times realizes  unbounded  wealth  on  the  morrow. 
Perhaps  by  some  "rich  strike"  in  a  mining  claim, 
perhaps  by  a  fortunate  deal  in  stocks,  perhaps  at  the 
gaming-table.  And  while  he  often  starts  on  a  term 
of  debauchery,  throwing  his  wealth  in  all  directions, 
he  serves  as  a  beacon  to  thousands  less  fortunate  (  ?), 
a  will-o'-the-wisp  enticing  them  to  renewed  attempts 
to  court  fortune  by  throwing  their  all  into  the  fascin- 
ating game. 

Perhaps  this  very  spirit  of  speculation  is  respons- 
ible for  many  of  the  grosser  sins  of  the  West.  Liv- 
ing in  an  atmosphere  of  chance,  the  indulgence  in 
looseness  of  morals  comes  to  be  taken  as  a  matter  of 
course  by  the  many,  and  actions  that  would  in  more 


UNCLE  CARL  105 

conservative  communities  relegate  one  to  the  lowest 
strata  of  society,  are  here  not  so  counted  against  one 
but  that  he  may  be  one  of  "our  leading  citizens." 
Not  but  that  there  are  thousands  of  pure,  refined, 
cultured  ladies  and  gentlemen  to  be  found  here  as 
elsewhere;  but  even  they  look  with  tolerance  on  ac- 
tions that  in  other  environments  would  cause  them  to 
shudder  with  horror.  So  does  custom  blind  us  to  a 
full  appreciation  of  evil  as  well  as  of  good. 

As  Englewood1  thought  over  the  day's  incidents 
and  his  plans  for  Miss  Braton,  his  eyes  sought  the 
upper  clearness,  where,  away  yonder  across  the  val- 
ley, the  eternal  snow-caps  of  a  high  mountain  range 
were  glistening  in  the  beams  of  the  rising  moon. 
Gradually  the  discord  of  sounds  about  him  faded 
from  his  dulling  ear,  and  the  harsh  strains  of  music 
softened  to  waves  of  a  weird  harmony  as  his  gaze 
wandered  toward  a  particularly  bright  star  in  the 
firmament, — her  star, — the  star  that  always  brought 
nearer  to  him  the  gentle  purity  of  the  dear  one  whose 
body  lay  under  the  shadow  of  the  Alleghenies.  As 
he  looked  through  the  fragrant  smoke  wreaths  the 
star  seemed  to  grow  in  size  and  radiance,  and  then 
the  center  opening  outward  disclosed  a  long  vista 
with  myriads  of  white-robed  forms  moving  grace- 
fully forward  to  the  strain  of  heaven-born  har- 
monies. And  then  a  form  detached  itself  from  the 
rest  and  fluttered  softly  toward  him,  all  bathed  in 
the  glorious  brightness.  As  the  form  drew  nearer 
Carl  recognized  the  being  who  was  all  in  all  to  him, 
and  he  inhaled  again  the  sad  fragrance  of  the  flow- 
ers that  loving  hands  had  placed  on  her  casket. 

As  she  finally  stood  before  him  Englewood  raised 
his  arms  toward  her  and  a  great  yearning  was  voiced 
in  the  softly  uttered,  "Irene,  my  pearl!" 


io6  UNCLE  CARL 

But  she  slowly  moved  her  head  in  negation.  "Not 
yet,  Carlie,  boy,"  she  said.  "Not  yet  may  we  enter 
the  gate  together.  Poor  Carl,  you  are  doing  too 
good  a  work  to  leave  now.  The  Master  whom  you 
would  not  acknowledge  has  much  for  you  to  do  yet. 
Yes,"  answering  his  unspoken  thought,  "you  are 
doing  right  by  the  unfortunate  little  girl  you  are 
trying  to  help.  It  is  a  heavy  burden  you  are  about 
to  carry,  for  you  have  been  very  careless  with  your 
money;  but  the  end  will  be  worth  your  struggle,  for 
this  'brand  plucked  from  the  burning'  will  bring  a 
joy  and  light  to  your  life  as  well  as  to  many  others. 
So  work  on,  work  on,  Carl;  you  are  treading  one 
of  the  many  paths  that  lead  to  the  'great  white 
throne.'  " 

And  then  she  touched  his  head  in  blessing.  "Be 
comforted,"  she  said,  and — faded  from  him  as  he 
slept. 


CHAPTER  XI 

A  sound  of  hurriedly  advancing  feet  in  the  hall, 
followed  by  several  sharp  raps  at  the  door,  awakened 
Carl  from  his  doze.  "Kin  I  come  in,  Mr.  Engle- 
wood?"  an  excited  voice  asked;  and  upon  receiving 
assent,  there  entered  wild-eyed,  hatless,  with  dis- 
heveled hair,  trembling  with  excitement  and  pant- 
ing as  though  he  had  run  a  race  for  life,  our  young 
friend,  Ralph  Deneen. 

"She's  ben  tooken,  Mr.  Englewood!"  he  almost 
shouted.  "A  feller  he  grabbed  her  and  took  her  off 
to  Squint-eyed  Pete's  place.  An'  she's  all  broke  up, 
an'  he  clipped  her  one  over  the  head,  an'  she — " 

"Hold  on!  Hold  on,  Ralph!"  said  Englewood. 
"Cool  down  first  and  then  tell  me  plainly  what  has 
happened."  And  seating  the  boy  in  a  chair  he  busied 
himself  with  some  papers  until  Ralph  had  regained 
his  breath,  and  then  learned  his  story. 

It  appeared  that  as  Miss  Braton  and  Ralph  were 
nearing  the  girl's  lodging  after  leaving  Englewood, 
they  were  accosted  by  a  man  who  claimed  to  be  her 
guardian.  He  took  her  roughly  by  the  arm,  and,  as 
she  tried  to  draw  away  from  him,  he  demanded  that 
she  go  with  him.  She  protested  against  it,  but  the 
man  forced  her  to  walk  along  with  him,  and  when 
Ralph  followed  he  ordered  him  away,  and  aimed  a 
vicious  kick  at  him.  Then  the  girl  told  him  to  go 
back  and  tell  her  "friend"  what  had  happened,  and 
began  to  cry,  when  the  brute  struck  her  with  his 
hand  and  ordered  her  to  "Shut  up  her  blubbering!" 
Forcing  her  to  go  with  him,  he  stopped  at  the  next 


io8  UNCLE  CARL 

corner  and  hailed  a  passing  hack.  Entering  it  they 
were  driven  off ;  but  Ralph,  mindful  of  Englewood's 
injunction  to  care  for  her,  and  knowing  that  he 
would  want  to  know  of  her  whereabouts,  had,  unob- 
served by  the  abductor,  managed  to  clamber  up  on 
the  rear  of  the  conveyance,  and  they  were  taken 
some  miles  out  on  an  old  trail,  stopping  at  the  way- 
side sporting-house  of  a  disreputable  rascal  known 
as  Squint-eyed  Pete,  because  of  a  peculiar  cast  in  one 
eye.  Here  the  girl  was  compelled  to  enter,  and 
Ralph  heard  the  man  order  the  proprietor  to  keep 
her  "with  the  girls"  until  he  called  for  her;  adding 
that  "he  would  be  away  for  a  day  or  two  on  a  min- 
ing deal,  and  that  he  must  on  no  account  let  her  es- 
cape." Upon  learning  this  Ralph  managed  to  get 
away  without  being  seen,  and  hastened  to  return  to 
give  Englewood  his  information. 

As  the  lad  finished  his  story  Englewood  rose 
abruptly  and  began  pacing  with  long  strides  up  and 
down  the  room;  a  habit  of  his  when  his  emotions 
were  stirred.  He  was  one  of  those  who  readily  enter 
into  the  feelings  of  others,  who  are  easily  influenced 
emotionally  by  the  joys  and  sorrows,  the  loves  and 
hates,  the  mirths  and  griefs  of  their  fellows;  though 
he  never  allowed  his  emotions  alone  to  influence  a 
predetermined  course  of  action.  And  now,  with  the 
brief  story  of  Miss  Braton's  abduction  told,  he  found 
himself  feeling  with  the  girl  in  her  distress.  Believ- 
ing in  her  purity  and  in  her  desire  to  remain  pure,  he 
could  imagine  himself  in  her  place,  torn  from  a 
hoped-for  refuge  and  consigned  to  the  care  of  the 
denizens  of  one  of  the  lowest  brothels  in  the  West. 
And  tears  came  close  to  the  surface  as  he  felt  her 
woe.  She  must  be  rescued,  of  course;  he  had  de- 


UNCLE  CARL  109 

cided  to  help  her  and  she  should  be  helped.  The 
proprietor  of  the  place  was  known  to  be  a  low,  un- 
scrupulous scoundrel,  but  not  one  to  prove  false  to 
a  fellow-scoundrel,  and  he  would  not  readily  give  up 
the  girl  who  had  been  consigned  to  him.  Neither 
could  Carl  use  the  offices  of  the  police  in  the  case. 
He  had  no-  legal  claim  to  the  girl;  besides,  to  insti- 
tute legal  proceedings  would  mean  delay,  court  en- 
tanglements, and  the  probable  spiriting  away  of  the 
one  he  would  save  before  help  could  reach  her.  No ! 
She  must  be  rescued  and  at  once,  and  he  must  do  it 
alone.  Taking  Ralph  down  to  a  restaurant  he  or- 
dered a  good  meal  for  the  boy,  and  told  him  that 
when  he  had  finished  it  to  go  home.  In  the  morning, 
early,  he  was  to  return  to  the  hotel  and,  if  Engle- 
wood  had  not  returned,  he  should  notify  the  police 
of  his  whereabouts;  telling  them  why  he  went 
there,  and  have  them  take  such  steps  as  might  seem 
necessary.  He  then  called  up  a  cab  by  'phone,  and 
was  soon  on  his  way  to  the  rescue;  though  without 
any  plan  or  clear  idea  as  to  how  the  rescue  should  be 
accomplished.  He  was  simply  determined  that  it 
should  be  done.  How — he  would  determine  later. 

A  motley  gathering  of  perhaps  a  score  of  men  were 
assembled  in  the  barroom  of  Squint-eyed  Pete's  place. 
The  usual  admixture  of  miners,  gamblers,  and  loaf- 
ers had  been  augmented  by  the  arrival  of  a  half- 
dozen  ranchmen,  coming  to  town  for  a  "lark,"  and 
they  had  stopped  at  "Squinty's,"  as  they  familiarly 
called  the  proprietor,  as  a  preliminary  to  a  more 
extended  debauch  in  the  city.  These  men  were  not 
all  bad  at  heart.  They  were  human,  and  though  they 
enjoyed  the  rough,  low  license  of  unbridled  physical 
passions,  they  would  when  their  higher  emotions 


no  UNCLE  CARL 

were  touched — and  it  is  not  always  hard  to  reach 
the  heart  of  even  the  lowest  of  humanity — undergo 
great  hardships  and  self-denial  in  the  cause  of  the 
unfortunate.  Careless,  rollicking,  they  were  sing- 
ing— boisterously  discordant — the  story  of  "Annie 
Rooney,"  then  having  its  run  of  popularity.  A  tall, 
brown-bearded  man,  of  herculean  proportions  and  a 
clear,  frank  face — though  showing  the  hard  lines  of 
dissipation — was  leading  them.  He  had  just  sung 
the  refrain,  "She's  my  sweetheart,  I'm  her  beau," 
when  the  door  opened  and  Englewood  stepped  into 
the  room.  The  leader  abruptly  stopped,  and  after 
looking  a  moment  at  the  intruder,  turned  to  the 
others  with  the  words,  "Well,  I'll  be  d — d  if  here 
ain't  a  parson  looking  for  a  sweetheart  too!" 

"Right  you  are,  right  you  are!"  yelled  the  others, 
and  then  a  voice  shouted,  "But  he'll  have  to  dance 
for  her."  The  suggestion  met  with  instant  ap- 
proval, and  a  ring  was  at  once  formed  around  Carl, 
who  had  until  then  stood  silently  by,  flushing  slightly 
at  the  low  insinuation  as  to  his  purpose  in  coming 
there,  but  otherwise  showing  no  sign  either  of  fear 
or  bravado.  He  now  raised  his  hand  slightly  as  if 
he  wished  to  speak. 

"Men,"  he  began;  but  a  chorus  of  voices  drowned 
him: 

"No  you  don't,  no  you  don't!  You  dance  first 
and  talk  afterward.  Jack,  start  the  ball  rolling." 

"Parson,"  said  Jack, — so  the  leader  was  called, — 
"you'd  better  get  yer  feet  to  shuffling,  and  pretty 
cussed  quick  too.  Per  if  you  don't  something  's 
goin'  to  happen." 

"I  wish  to  talk  first,  and  will  dance  afterward — 
if  you  can  make  me,"  responded  Englewood  calmly. 


UNCLE  CARL  in 

"Well,"  cried  Jack  after  a  moment's  hesitation, 
"I  guess  we'll  let  you  talk  jest  about  fifteen  seconds. 
Ready,  boys !"  and  he  pulled  his  revolver,  as  did  the 
others. 

"You,  over  there,"  said  Carl,  pointing  to  the  pro- 
prietor, "a  young  girl  was  brought  here  this  evening 
and  left  with  you.  I  came  for  her." 

"You  d — d  parson!  you  don't  git  her,  see!"  an- 
swered Squinty.  "Go  ahead  with  the  show,  boys." 

"Time  's  up,  turn  your  shooting  irons  loose,  boys!" 
yelled  Jack,  and  the  revolvers  began  to  spit  their 
leaden  pellets. 

It  was  one  of  the  little  "pleasantries"  of  the  cow- 
boys, when  on  one  of  their  sprees,  to  intimidate  a 
tenderfoot,  or  one  new  to  Western  ways,  especially 
if  he  assumed  a  superiority  in  manner  or  character. 
A  parson  was  a  "plum"  to  them,  and  it  was  their 
delight  to  make  him  dance,  by  shooting,  apparently 
at  his  feet,  but  really  only  near  them;  and  in  most 
cases  a  man  would  step  lively  about,  even  dance,  for 
fear  of  the  bullets.  The  men  were  careful,  however, 
to  not  injure  the  victim.  Indeed,  cases  have  been 
known  where  a  cowboy,  indulging  in  this  pastime 
and,  being  inaccurate  in  aim,  having  injured  a  foot, 
has  been  very  roughly  dealt  with  by  his  comrades. 
Englewood  knew  this,  and  though  it  required  some 
courage  to  stand  still  with  the  bullets  ploughing  up 
the  rough  floor  on  all  sides  of  him,  he  moved  not  a 
foot,  but  looked  calmly  at  his  would-be  tormentors. 

"Well,  by  G— d!"  said  Jack  at  length,  "the  sky- 
pilot's  got  nerve  all  right;  he  ain't  no  tenderfoot." 

"You  are  mistaken,  sir,"  said  Englewood.  "First, 
I  am  not  a  minister,  and  second  I  am  a  tenderfoot. 
That  is,  I  have  been  West  only  a  short  time.  But  I 


ii2  UNCLE  CARL 

didn't  come  here  to  dance,  but  to  save  a  girl  from 
ruin.  I  shall  not  dance,  and  I  shall  save  the  girl," 
he  added  firmly. 

"Well,  you'll  set  up  the  drinks  anyhow,"  said  one 
of  the  loafers. 

"No,"  said  Jack,  who  began  to  feel  a  respect  for 
Englewood.  "I  like  a  nervy  man,  by  G — d,  and 
this  feller's  got  a  lot  of  it.  If  you  can  git  the  girl 
out  of  Squinty  you  can  have  her,  but  you  don't  have 
to  set  'em  up  unless  you  want  to."  At  this  there  was 
a  murmur  of  approval  from  the  crowd,  whom  their 
leader  seemed  easily  to  sway. 

"Men,"  said  Englewood,  "I  am  perfectly  willing 
to  buy  the  drinks,  since  you  don't  force  it.  You 
know,"  he  smiled,  "a  Yankee  doesn't  like  to  be 
driven.  Peter," — turning  to  the  bar, — "fill  up  the 
glasses." 

Setting  out  the  glasses  and  bottles,  which  were 
eagerly  reached  for  as  the  men  lined  up  at  the  bar, 
Squinty  turned  to  Englewood,  who  placed  the  reck- 
oning on  the  board  and  called  for  a  glass  of  water. 

"Hold  on!"  cried  Jack.  "That's  going  a  little 
too  far.  We're  willing  to  let  you  off  easy  like,  but 
you  got  to  drink  liquor  like  the  rest  of  us."  The 
men  immediately  replaced  the  glasses  which  they 
were  about  to  raise  to  their  lips,  and  vociferously 
agreed  that  Englewood  must  drink  "good,  red  li- 
quor." 

"No,"  said  Carl,  as  he  sternly  looked  down  the 
line.  He  felt  his  anger  rising,  and  it  was  one  of  his 
characteristics  that  as  his  emotions  grew  stronger  his 
voice  sank  to  low,  quiet  tones,  yet  so  softly  sibilant 
that  they  seemed  to  penetrate  his  hearers  more  surely 
than  the  loudest  voice.  "No,  I  like  liquor  in  its 
place;  but  to-night  I  prefer  water." 


UNCLE  CARL  113 

Instantly  Jack  pressed  a  revolver  against  his 
temple  and  placed  the  whiskey  bottle  before  him. 
"Drink  that,"  he  growled,  "or  by  G — d  you'll  be  in 
h — 1  in  another  minute!" 

"Jack,"  said  Englewood,  and  he  looked  unflinch- 
ingly into  the  other's  eyes,  as  if  an  inspiration  had 
suddenly  come  to  him,  "I  shall  drink  water  and  you 
shall  drink  it  also!  Take  your  gun  down  and  I'll 
prove  it." 

"Good!  Good!"  yelled  his  audience.  "Old  Jack 
drink  water !  Ha,  ha !  He'll  do  that  when  old 
Squinty-eye  joins  the  church.  Might  as  well  ask  a 
d — d  coyote  to  eat  ice-cream  with  a  spoon.  Old 
Jack  take  to  water!  Nixie !" 

"I'll  tell  you  what,  boys,"  said  one,  "if  the  par- 
son can  get  Jack  to  drink  water  he  can  have  the  girl. 
Can't  he;  Squinty?" 

"Naw,  he  can't,"  replied  the  proprietor.  "No- 
body can  git  the  girl  'cept  Jenks  what  left  her  here!" 

"Can't,  can't  he,"  flared  Jack,  and  his  attention 
being  turned  in  Squinty's  direction  his  revolver 
turned  there  too.  "Who  says  'can't'?" 

"I  says  can't,"  replied  the  proprietor.  "That  girl 
was  left  in  my  charge,  an'  in  my  charge  she  stays 
till  Jenks  calls  for  her.  That's  what  I  says." 

"An'  we  says" — several  guns  were  leveled  now — 
"that  if  the  parson  makes  Jack  drink  water  he  can 
have  the  girl.  Now  what  do  you  say?" 

The  crowd  was  beginning  to  get  turbulent,  and, 
as  they  say  in  the  West,  had  the  drop  on  Squinty. 
The  latter  finally  capitulated,  saying  that  if  the  par- 
son could  do  it,  all  right;  and  he  could  have  the  girl; 
"but  no  gun  play  goes,  by  G — d!" 
8 


n4  UNCLE  CARL 

"I  am  unarmed,"  said  Englewood,  "and  I  agree 
to  your  condition." 

It  was  a  very  uncertain  experiment  that  he  was 
about  to  try.  But  a  peculiar  temperamental  condi- 
tion, felt  rather  than  seen,  in  the  leader  of  these 
rough  men, — of  whose  past  life  our  friend  had  heard 
some  particulars, — had  caused  Carl's  mind  to  revert 
for  an  instant  to  some  experiments  of  his  younger 
days.  For  his  own  safety  he  would  not  make  use  of 
such  an  expedient.  Indeed,  he  could  easily  get  out 
of  his  present  position  without  injury  to  himself;  but 
to  rescue  the  girl  was  his  first  object,  and  to  do  that 
he  would  employ  any  honorable  means,  even  such  as 
he  would  scorn  to  use  in  his  own  behalf. 

"Jack,  take  my  hand,"  he  said,  as  he  reached  it 
out  and  looked  intently  in  the  other's  face.  The 
big,  strong  fellow  put  his  revolver  up,  and  closing 
his  massive  hand  over  Carl's  tried  to  crush  it  with 
his  giant's  strength;  but  the  hand  he  held  seemed 
like  velvet-covered  steel  as  it  returned  a  firm,  cool 
resistance  to  his  powerful  effort;  at  the  same  time 
his  eyes  became  fixed  as  by  a  fascination  on  the  eyes, 
now  almost  black  with  a  magnetic  intensity,  that 
looked  so  steadily  into  his,  as  Carl's  low,  sibilant 
tones  began.  The  men  left  their  untasted  glasses  of 
liquor  on  the  bar  and  gathered  about  the  pair,  some- 
what awed  by  the  unexpected  turn  of  events,  won- 
dering and  expectant  of  they  knew  not  what. 

"Now,  Jack,"  said  Englewood,  "I  want  to  take 
you  way  back  East  with  me,  way  back  to  the  little 
town  of  Susquehanna,  Jack,  where  you  used  to  live. 
You  were  a  young  man  then  and  you  had  a  little  sis- 
ter, a  sister  just  about  the  age,  now,  of  the  girl  I 
want  to  save  here.  And  do  you  remember  the  last 
time  you  saw  her,  Jack?"  The  tears  came  to  the 


UNCLE  CARL  115 

giant's  eyes  and  he  tried  to  draw  his  hand  away;  but 
Englewood  held  it  firmly  and  his  eyes  seemed  to  al- 
most flame  with  intensity  as  he  held  the  man's  gaze 
riveted  to  his  own.  He  continued : 

"You  had  a  dear  old  mother,  Jack,  but  you  were 
young  and  full  of  life  and  you  got  into  a  bad  way 
with  the  boys.  Many  were  the  tears  she  shed  for 
you;  many  were  the  scrapes  she  paid  money  to  get 
you  out  of;  and  she  was  not  rich,  Jack,  but  she  de- 
nied herself  much  for  you,  many  a  line  of  care  was 
added  to  the  good  old  face  for  your  sake.  And  one 
night  you  came  home  late,  Jack.  You  had  been  out 
with  the  boys  again  and  you  had  drank  a  little  too 
much.  You  were  a  little  ashamed  as  you  neared  the 
home-nest  where  a  light  was  still  burning;  and  you 
pushed  the  door  open  ever  so  softly,  and  what  you 
saw  there  made  you  resolve  to  go  away  from  there 
and  stay  until  you  could  come  back  a  man,  Jack;  a 
good  man,  who  would  be  all  that  the  dear  mother 
prayed  for  you  to  be.  They  were  both  there,  Jack, 
the  mother  and  the  little  sister.  The  child  had  been 
restless  and  mother  had  slipped  on  her  dressing-gown 
and  sat  in  her  rocking-chair  with  your  little  sister 
in  her  arms  and  was  crooning  a  soft  lullaby,  the  poor 
tired  face  full  of  loving  affection  as  she  softly  sang, 
'Sleep,  my  babe,  lie  still  and  slumber;  Holy  angels 
guard  thy  bed.'  And  the  little  sister's  eyelids  be- 
gan to  droop,  Jack,  just  as  yours  are  beginning  to 
droop."  Carl's  left  hand  had  reached  up  and  was 
slowly,  softly  stroking  Jack's  arm  as  he  talked.  "The 
blue  eyes  were  beginning  to  vanish  in  slumberland. 
'Sleep,  my  babe,'  came  softly,  distantly  to  her  ears, 
just  as  they  do  to  yours,  Jack.  She  is  drifting  off  to 
slumberland,  and  so  are  you.  Sleepy — sleepy — 
sleeping — Jack — fast  asleep."  As  he  was  softly 


n6  UNCLE  CARL 

talking  Carl's  hand  approached  slowly  the  strong 
man's  face  and  lightly  touched  his  brow,  and  then  his 
eyelids,  and  then  releasing  his  hand  he  made  a  few 
rapid  passes  before  Jack's  face  and  person,  and  then 
stepping  suddenly  back  while  the  giant  stood  like  a 
statue,  in  a  profound  hypnotic  sleep,  he  said,  "Jack 
you  are  sound  asleep,  yet  you  hear  every  word  that 
I  say.  I  shall  awaken  you  presently,  and  when  I  do 
you  will  ask  Squinty  for  a  glass  of  water,  and  you 
will  drink  it,  and  you  will  be  a  good  friend  to  the 
girl  I  am  after,  and  to  me.  And  then  you  will  go 
back  to  the  ranch  and  think  of  the  mother  and  the 
little  sister;  and  you  will  go  back  to  them  as  soon  as 
you  can.  And,  Jack,  I  think  that  you  will  not  go  on 
any  more  sprees  with  the  boys.  And  now  I  am  going 
to  awaken  you,  Jack;  remember  what  I  have  said," 
and  suddenly  snapping  his  fingers  in  the  man's  face 
he  uttered  sharply — "Awake!" 

The  giant's  eyes  opened  suddenly  and  he  looked 
dazedly  about  at  the  wondering  faces  of  his  compan- 
ions, who,  ignorant  of  the  marvels  of  hypnosis,  were 
amazed  at  the  scene  they  had  witnessed.  Shaking 
himself  like  a  great  dog,  Jack  then  advanced  some- 
what unsteadily  to  the  bar. 

"Here,  Squinty,"  he  said,  "give  me  a  glass  of — 
of — water,  by  G — d!" 

The  bartender  shoved  the  whiskey  bottle  toward 
him,  but  Jack  moved  it  aside.  Not  daring  to  refuse 
further,  Squinty  filled  the  glass  with  water,  which 
Jack  raised  to  his  lips,  hesitated  a  moment,  and  then 
drank  at  a  gulp. 

A  chorus  of  voices  greeted  the  act;  none  under- 
standing how  it  had  been  brought  about,  but  all  mar- 
veling that  big,  reckless,  convivial  Jack  could  be  con- 
trolled so  completely. 


UNCLE  CARL  117 

"The  parson  wins,"  said  a  voice;  "bring  out  the 
girl,  Squinty." 

The  bartender  demurred,  but  big  Jack  again 
whipped  out  his  gun  with  the  remark,  "We  keep  our 
promises,  by  G — d !  Now  you  keep  yours."  As  the 
girl  was  finally  brought  out  and  given  into  Engle- 
wood's  charge,  the  giant  gripped  his  hand.  "I  reckon 
you  know  how  to  take  care  of  yourself,"  he  said; 
"but  if  you  ever  need  a  friend,  call  on  old  Jack,  and 
he'll  be  with  you  every  time,  by  G — d!  Boys," 
turning  to  the  others,  "I'm  going  back  to  the  ranch; 
you  go  on  to  town  if  you  want  to,  but,  somehow  I 
don't  feel  like  it,"  and  in  spite  of  their  protestations 
he  mounted  his  horse  and  rode  away  in  the  darkness, 
while  Englewood  returned  to  the  city  with  his  grate- 
ful charge. 

The  next  day  saw  Miss  Braton  safely  on  her  way 
to  Chicago,  while  Carl,  returning  to  his  hotel,  found 
with  his  mail  that  had  been  delivered  during  his  ab- 
sence, two  letters  bearing  important  information. 


CHAPTER  XII 

It  is  not  our  purpose  to  hold  Carl  Englewood  up 
to  the  world  as  a  model  of  the  perfect  man.  He  was 
far  from  being  that.  But  he  was  a  good  man,  a 
man  of  strong  character,  high  ideals,  and  a  steady, 
patient,  earnest  cultivator  of  what  seemed  to  him 
Truth.  He  was  not  a  highly  educated  man  in  any 
one  line;  not  a  specialist  in  any  branch  of  learning; 
but  he  had  a  goodly  fund  of  general  knowledge,  was 
a  keen  observer  of  men,  a  student  of  humanity,  both 
as  to  individuals  and  masses. 

Of  his  early  religious  struggles  we  have  already 
spoken.  In  his  maturer  years  his  conclusions  had 
in  no  way  changed,  but  he  had  added  to  them  more 
definite  views  and  purposes  in  regard  to  his  life- 
work,  which,  though  the  world  would  perhaps  not 
call  them  wise,  yet  to  him  spelled  "success"  in  the 
highest  sense. 

He  had  no  scorn  for  money,  but  deemed  money  a 
very  useful,  an  absolutely  necessary  thing.  But  he 
had  little  esteem  for  the  man  who  made  the  pursuit 
of  wealth  the  chief  aim  of  life.  To  him  money  was 
a  medium  by  means  of  which  suffering  could  be  alle- 
viated, hunger  appeased,  pleasure  gratified,  and 
greater  fields  of  usefulness  opened  to  cultivation, 
new  heights  of  power  for  good  attained,  with  ac- 
celerated speed.  But  the  aggrandizement  of  wealth 
only  for  the  sake  of  power  or  pomp  was  to  Engle- 
wood one  of  the  lowest  aims.  His  motto  was  "Sin- 
cerity." Sincerity  with  self  was  to  him  the  first  and 
highest  duty  of  each  man.  To  know  one's  own  na- 
ture, tendency,  power,  intellectual  strength;  in  a 


UNCLE  CARL  119 

word,  to  understand  self  so  far  as  possible,  seemed 
to  him  a  necessary  preliminary  to  the  accomplishment 
of  valuable  results ;  and  there  must  be  no  self-decep- 
tion in  the  study  of  one's  own  inner  personality.  Ab- 
solute sincerity  must  prevail,  and  all  weaknesses  and 
evil  tendencies,  as  well  as  the  strength  and  beauty  of 
one's  character  should  be  clearly  realized.  Second 
only  to  the  study  of  self  should  be  the  study  of  hu- 
manity as  exemplified  in  the  world's  life.  But  this 
study  should  be  prosecuted  not  merely  for  the  satis- 
faction of  knowing,  not  for  the  gratification  of  idle 
curiosity,  but  for  the  purpose  of  carrying  out  a  well- 
defined  and  high  purpose  in  life.  An  altruistic  hedon- 
ism was  the  ruling  motive  in  his  life.  Though  the 
personal  happiness  which  had  once  seemed  his  own 
was  denied  him  in  the  death  of  Irene,  he  yet  believed 
that  the  duty  of  each  individual  was  to  increase  so 
far  as  possible  the  sum  total  of  human  happiness; 
and  for  that  end  he  labored.  Learning  early  to  look 
into  happiness  through  other  eyes  than  his  own,  he 
counted  the  day  lost  which  did  not  see  some  burden 
lightened,  some  sorrow  lessened  or  greater  strength 
given  to  bear  it,  some  face  brightened  by  a  smile 
through  his  efforts;  and  yet  he  did  not  believe  in 
much  verbal  preaching;  the  sermon  of  one  pure  sin- 
cere life  was  to  his  mind  a  stronger  influence  for  good 
than  the  spoken  words  of  a  thousand  orators.  He 
did  not  seek  happiness  for  himself,  but,  seeking  it  for 
others,  a  quiet  peace  entered  his  own  heart.  "Vir- 
tue its  own  reward"  was  a  verity  with  him,  for  his 
religion  held  no  promise  of  a  personal  reward  in  the 
hereafter  for  well-doing  here,  nor  did  fear  of  pun- 
ishment beyond  the  "narrow  house"  deter  him  from 
doing  evil;  he  simply  chose  his  course  because  it 
seemed  to  him  that  he  was  individually  responsible 


120  UNCLE  CARL 

for  the  use  he  made  of  his  life.  Responsible — not 
to  God  as  a  distinct  entity,  but  to  Mother  Nature, 
by  whose  fiat  he  had  become  an  ego  in  the  midst  of 
millions  of  fellows.  The  land  "beyond  the  sunrise" 
was  an  unknowable  mystery.  He  "hoped"  to  meet 
his  bride  at  the  gate  of  immortality,  but  it  was  only 
a  hope.  A  hope  born  of  his  emotions  rather  than 
his  reason.  In  reality  immortality  meant  for  him 
an  eternal  influence.  The  persistency  of  force,  the 
indestructibility  of  matter,  were  realities.  And  he 
believed  that  the  influence  of  a  thing  that  has  been 
cannot  die;  but  that  though  it  might  change  form 
until  its  own  original  individuality  was  obliterated, 
its  effects  were  nevertheless  eternal.  Thus,  his  own 
influence  was  to  be  eternal,  and  it  pleased  him  to  try 
to  so  live  that  that  influence  should  be  to  the  bet- 
terment of  mankind;  that  his  having  lived  should 
make  the  world's  garden  brighter  with  the  flowers 
of  truth,  and  love,  and  gladness;  that  they  who 
should  come  after  him  should  have  more  of  strength 
and  purity;  should  approximate  more  closely  the 
highest  ideals  than  they  would  have  done  had  he  not 
lived.  And,  when  finally  the  true  spirit  of  Universal 
Brotherhood  should  become  a  verity,  it  pleased  him 
to  think  that  the  influence  of  his  personality  should 
be  alive  in  the  heart  of  humanity. 

He  was  not  a  broody  man.  His  studies  and  pur- 
poses made  him  often  seem  unapproachable,  and  at 
times  lent  a  manner  of  austerity  to  him.  But  his 
heart  was  alive  in  spite  of  this  apparent  austerity 
during  his  hours  of  concentration.  He  was  a  great 
lover  of  fun,  and  could  be  just  as  nonsensical  as  any 
one  in  his  lighter  moods.  He  loved  especially  the 
children,  the  young  travelers  just  starting  on  the 
journey  of  life.  And  it  was  his  frequent  pleasure  to 


UNCLE  CARL  121 

join  with  them  in  their  games,  being  jovial  and  free, 
as  young  as  any  of  them.  Wherever  he  lived  it  was 
not  long  before  he  would  be  hailed  by  the  youngsters 
as  "Uncle  Carl,"  and  he  was  always  a  welcome  ad- 
dition to  their  little  circles. 

Englewood  was  very  far  from  being  a  perfect 
man.  His  weaknesses  were  very  real.  He  had  a 
temper  that  was  most  violent,  though  he  rarely  lost 
control  of  it.  He  used  often  to  say,  "I  have  little 
respect  for  the  man  who  habitually  yields  to  his 
temper,  yet  I  wouldn't  give  the  snap  of  my  finger 
for  the  man  who  hasn't  a  good  strong  one  on  occa- 
sion." But  when  Carl's  temper  did  get  the  better 
of  him  he  was  a  very  demon.  Apparently  calm  out- 
wardly, his  inner  rage  would  be  at  a  white  heat.  And 
though  he  tried  at  all  times  to  eliminate  any  feeling 
of  revenge,  yet  in  such  a  frame  of  mind,  strict,  mer- 
ciless, unyielding  justice  to  an  individual  would  be 
carried  out  to  the  letter;  and  woe  betide  the  man 
who  would  dare  stand  in  his  way.  Yet  at  this  time  it 
had  been  some  years  since  this  strong  weakness  had 
mastered  him,  and  it  was  his  constant  hope  that  it 
might  never  again  rule  him.  Englewood  believed 
in  justice,  strict  and  sure.  That  was  a  law  of  nature 
and  should  be  man's  law.  Yet,  mind  is  finite.  Who 
can  tell  what  justice  is  in  a  given  case?  Who  can 
tell  the  inherited  quality  of  mind  which  impels  one 
to  a  given  action?  Who  knows  what  influence  has 
been  brought  to  bear  to  cause  one  to  commit  a  crime  ? 
With  a  thousand  standards  of  right,  who  may  say, 
"My  standard  is  the  only  right  one  and  by  it  you 
shall  be  judged"?  Therefore,  because  no  finite  mind 
can  know  what  is  absolute  justice,  Englewood  held 
that  the  quality  of  mercy  should  always  be  a  factor 
in  final  judgments. 


122  UNCLE  CARL 

His  attitude  toward  women  was  that  of  the  high- 
est chivalry.  They  were  the  best  of  earth.  If  all 
else  were  swept  away  woman's  personality  would 
make  life  worth  while — not  in  a  physical  sense,  but 
in  a  high  spiritual,  an  idealized  conception  of  her 
being.  His  respect  for  women  amounted  to  rever- 
ence. Not  that  he  did  not  realize  much  of  their 
frailties;  he  knew  them  to  be  weak  in  many  ways 
and  illogical  in  reason  and  action  as  a  rule;  yet  he 
thought  them  stronger  in  moral  ethics,  more  cour- 
ageous and  self-denying  and  patient  in  the  harsher 
duties  of  life  than  men.  Though  he  often  met  men 
who  sneered  at  their  virtue  and  held  that  few,  if  any, 
were  unsmirched  by  the  lower  passions;  though,  es- 
pecially when  pursuing  his  work  in  the  West,  he 
came  in  contact  with  many  women  of  unclean  morals, 
he  yet  believed  that  most  women  were  pure.  "I  have 
no  way  of  knowing,"  he  said,  "whether  my  belief  is 
in  accordance  with  fact  or  not,  as  impurity  is  by  its 
very  nature  secret.  I  can  learn  the  real  truth  only 
by  seeking  impurity  for  its  own  sake,  becoming  my- 
self as  low  as  that  which  I  seek.  The  testimony  of 
any  impure  man  on  such  a  question  is  to  me  valueless, 
because  my  experience  teaches  me  that  the  man  who 
habitually  seeks  the  ruination  of  women,  for  the 
gratification  of  his  own  low  passions,  is  lacking  in 
personal  honor,  and  his  word  is  apt  to  be  false,  even 
as  his  ideals  of  life  are  warped  by  constantly  seeking 
the  indulgence  of  his  own  innate  vileness.  So  I 
prefer  to  remain  a  believer  in  the  purity  of  women." 
But  this  very  belief  in  woman's  purity  made  him  an 
easy  mark  for  the  wiles  of  those  of  the  sex  who  chose 
to  use  him  for  their  own  purposes.  Without  fully 
understanding  her  nature — no  man  does  that — he 
would  have  confidence  in  her  words,  and  was  often 


UNCLE  CARL  123 

placed  in  embarrassing  positions  and  mulcted  of 
many  a  hard-earned  dollar  by  being  so  easily  led  by 
his  faith  in  her.  Yet  repeated  evidences  of  moral 
decrepitude  in  some  in  no  wise  lessened  his  belief  in 
and  respect  for  the  sex  as  a  whole. 

An  idealist  from  his  early  youth,  he  had  met  with 
many  disappointments  as  he  had  become  more  and 
more  conversant  with  the  ways  of  the  world  at  large. 
Asked  in  his  younger  days  if  he  ever  expected  to 
find  his  ideal,  he  had  unhesitatingly  responded  with  an 
emphatic  affirmative.  He  believed  that  there  were 
in  the  world  persons  embodying  all  of  the  high  attri- 
butes of  intellectual  and  moral  worth,  and  void  of 
the  faults  and  inconsistencies  of  life  in  general.  He 
had  been  forced  to  modify  his  belief  in  personal  per- 
fection, but  if  asked  the  same  question  now  he  would 
say,  "I  have  found  it.  No  one  is  perfect,  but  in  hu- 
manity as  a  whole  the  ideal  may  be  found.  There 
are  all  of  the  virtues  of  truth,  love,  strength.  No 
flower  can  be  found  that  is  absolutely  perfect.  Some 
flaw  can  be  found  in  it,  but  why  because  of  some  de- 
fect— an  imperfectly  shaped  petal,  a  sting  from  some 
insect — claim  that  perfection  as  a  flower  is  not  in 
the  blossom.  Why  be  always  looking  for  the  flaw 
when  seeking  the  good.  In  enjoying  the  rose  is  it 
not  better  to  forget  the  thorn?  Or,  if  we  remember 
the  thorn,  is  it  not  well  also  to  remember  that,  al- 
though it  gives  us  personally  no  pleasure,  it  was  yet 
placed  there  for  a  good  purpose?  Standing  beside 
a  garden  of  flowers,  the  whole  forms  a  beautiful 
picture.  The  thorns  are  necessary  for  protection 
of  the  blossoms.  The  canker-worm  simply  propa- 
gates another  form  of  life,  no  less  beautiful  in  its 
way  than  the  rose.  And  we  may  enjoy  the  garden 
without  coming  in  contact  with  that  which  is  inimical 


i24  UNCLE  CARL 

to  our  pleasure;  only,  those  having  the  care  of  the 
garden  should  use  due  diligence  that  the  good  rather 
than  the  evil  shall  predominate.  It  is  impossible 
to  have  a  garden  without  some  weed  germs,  some 
injurious  insects.  These  should  be  eliminated  so  far 
as  possible,  but  the  flowers  should  not  be  condemned 
as  a  whole  because  of  the  impossibility  of  making  the 
garden  faultless.  And  so  it  is  with  humanity.  We 
can  at  best  only  stand  on  the  outskirts  of  the  great 
garden,  penetrating  a  little  here  and  there  perhaps, 
but  understanding  but  little  of  the  great  forces  at 
work.  Evils  there  are — great  ugly-appearing  weeds, 
snakes,  worms,  nettles  and  poisonous  insects.  But 
there  are,  too,  all  of  the  flowers  of  virtue  that  we  can 
enjoy  if  we  wish.  We  need  not,  unless  we  will,  come 
in  contact  with  the  evils.  But  if  we  do  we  can  find 
a  beauty  in  the  very  sins  of  humanity,  for  they  have 
their  influence,  if  rightly  viewed  toward  completing 
the  ideal.  As  Bulwer  has  said,  'It  is  in  the  presence 
of  evil  that  man  finds  his  duties  and  his  soul  its 
progress.'  ' 

For  children,  particularly,  did  he  hold  a  keen  in- 
terest. His  own  childhood  being  comparatively  bar- 
ren of  joy,  he  delighted  in  opening  the  way  for  the 
youngsters  who  would  otherwise  have  few  pleasures 
or  opportunities  for  the  boyhood  and  girlhood  frolics 
that  are  such  a  gratification  to  the  little  folk.  He 
considered  that  one  of  the  saddest  things  in  life  is 
to  have  had  no  happy  childhood.  And  he  gave  much 
of  time  and  money  toward  adding  brightness  to  child 
life.  And  where,  here  and  there,  he  found  an  es- 
pecially promising  character,  but  with  circumstances 
such  as  to  stunt  its  growth,  he  endeavored  to  so  ar- 
range as  that  the  field  of  learning  and  advancement 
should  be  open,  and  the  growing  plant  surrounded 


UNCLE  CARL  125 

by  the  food  best  fitted  for  it.  Denied  opportunities 
for  advanced  knowledge  himself,  he  now  knew  the 
advantages  of  and  missed  the  higher  training,  and  it 
was  part  of  his  work  in  life  to  see  that  the  same  lack 
should  not  be  felt  by  others  where  he  could  prevent 
it.  His  great  aim  was  to  facilitate  the  upbuilding 
of  character.  And  as  a  fundamental  principle  he 
sought  first  sterling  honesty  in  all  matters.  He  cared 
not  what  a  person's  religious  belief  was,  if  it  was 
honestly  felt.  Where  a  person  was  indifferent  to  the 
higher  beauties  of  thought,  he  sought  to  place  before 
him  a  suggestion  of  the  satisfaction  derived  from  its 
intelligent  indulgence,  gave  glimpses  of  the  wondrous 
mysteries  with  which  all  nature  teems,  sought  to  in- 
terest in  the  deeper  researches,  and  thus  often  stimu- 
lated desires  that  resulted  in  a  splendid  growth.  He 
did  not  believe  in  doing  everything,  nor  indeed  very 
much  for  an  individual.  But  rather,  sought  to  enable 
an  individual  to  do  for  self  that  which  he  would  not 
have  been  able  to  accomplish  without  him.  A  seed 
falling  on  barren  ground  could  not  grow;  unless 
either  transferred  to  other  ground,  or  by  having  its 
natural  food  brought  to  it.  In  either  case  the  seed 
would  then  germinate,  but  would  produce  a  plant  ac- 
cording to  its  preordained  nature.  The  seed  of  a 
gooseberry  would  never  produce  the  oak  tree,  but 
under  proper  conditions  it  would  make  a  good  goose- 
berry bush;  and  every  well-developed  plant  has  its 
own  peculiar  uses.  Surrounded  by  a  fertile  soil,  the 
growing  plant  would  select  its  own  food,  and  grow 
its  own  growth.  It  should  perhaps  be  shielded  from 
harm  during  its  younger  age,  but  should  not  be  al- 
ways supported,  else  it  would  never  reach  its  full 
strength.  Even,  the  oak  tree,  if  shielded  from  storms 
and  braced  against  the  rude  winds  through  life, 


126  UNCLE  CARL 

would  be  unable  to  stand  alone  against  the  warring 
elements.  And  so  with  young  humanity — he  sought 
to  surround  them  with  proper  food,  to  guard  them 
during  their  tender  age  against  too  strong  buffeting, 
but  at  the  same  time  stimulated  them  to  do  for  them- 
selves, to  reason  out  and  decide  upon  their  own  jour- 
ney through  life.  He  sought  to  imbue  them  with 
sturdy  truth  and  the  strength  of  conviction,  abhorring 
hypocrisy  in  all  forms.  Whether  they  reached  the 
same  conclusion  that  he  did,  or  the  opposite,  mat- 
tered not.  He  only  aimed  that,  whether  they  were 
to  be  flowers  or  shrubs,  or  trees,  they  should  be 
strong,  healthy,  sturdy  specimens  of  their  kind.  He 
did  not  seek  to  change  human  nature,  he  thought  that 
to  be  impossible.  He  only  sought  to  give  all  whom 
he  influenced  the  impulse  to  develop  their  highest 
attributes,  and  tried  to  help  them  to  uproot  all  nox- 
ious weeds — the  tendency  to  evil — which  would  take 
from  the  nourishment  that  would  otherwise  go  far 
toward  helping  the  higher  growths. 

Such  was  Carl  Englewood  at  this  time.  Just  an 
earnest,  sympathetic,  helpful  man,  of  ordinary  abil- 
ity, working  in  life's  garden  with  the  chief  aim  that 
of  making  the  world  better  because  of  his  having 
lived  in  it. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

"Palm   Grove,   Florida,    May   13,    189 — 

"To  Carl  Englewood, 

"Rock  Gulch,  Montana. 

"Mv  DEAR  FRIEND:  It  is  ill  news  that  I  have  for 
you.  Your  ward,  Hattie,  after  an  illness  of  but  a 
few  hours,  passed  from  us  this  morning.  While 
having  never  known  her,  I  know  that  you  will  much 
regret  this  sudden  severance,  because  of  your  friend- 
ship for  the  father  and  his  wishes  for  her  future; 
yet,  somehow, — it  seems  hard  to  say  it  at  this  time, — 
I  cannot  but  think  it  a  relief  for  the  future.  In 
spite  of  the  high  characters  of  her  parents  as  you 
have  represented  them  to  me,  it  has  seemed  to  me 
that  the  child  has  inherited  but  few  of  the  graces 
that  one  might  expect.  While  she  was  always  amen- 
able to  such  discipline  as  seemed  to  me  wise,  she  yet 
betrayed  a  coarseness  of  fiber,  a  tendency  toward 
the  evils  of  the  underworld,  that  were  so  pronounced 
and  so  hard  to  combat  that  I  have  felt  that,  when 
she  reached  the  age  when  she  should  be  mistress  of 
her  own  life,  little  of  good  could  come  of  it.  The 
poor  child  is  dead,  and  I  would  not  defame  her  in 
the  least  to  one  who  was  personally  bound  to  her. 
But  to  you,  whose  life,  had  she  lived,  would  have 
been  a  constant  worry  over  her  waywardness,  I  can- 
not help  but  express  my  feeling  of  relief  that  the 
poor  little  girl  has  left  us  ere  her  natural  tendencies 
had  gotten  beyond  control. 

"The  cause  of  her  death  is  somewhat  of  a  mystery. 
She  came  in  late  last  evening,  after  an  absence  of 


128  UNCLE  CARL 

some  hours,  with  a  high  fever.  During  the  after- 
noon she  had  asked  to  go  out  to  the  beach  with  two 
or  three  little  girls  of  good  family,  and  I  had  con- 
sented with  the  stipulation  that  she  return  by  sun- 
down. I  afterward  learned  that  instead  of  going 
with  them  she  was  in  the  company  of  boys  and  girls 
of  a  low  order.  I  immediately  sent  out  after  her  and 
went  myself  in  search  of  her.  We  could  not  find 
her,  however,  and  I  returned  to  the  house  to  make 
arrangements  for  a  thorough  search,  when  she  put 
in  her  appearance.  In  response  to  my  query  as  to 
where  she  had  been  she  vaguely  answered  that  she 
and  a  man  she  had  met  had  been  'having  a  good 
time  down  the  road.'  (I  have -reported  to  the  offi- 
cers and  they  are  trying  to  trace  the  man.)  Hattie 
went  at  once  to  bed,  and  I  sent  for  a  doctor,  as  her 
fever  was  so  high  that  I  was  worried  over  it.  Before 
he  arrived,  however,  she  became  delirious  and  re- 
mained so  until  her  death  this  morning.  In  her  de- 
lirium she  revealed  a  character  such  as  I  shudder  to 
recall.  Do  you  know,  my  dear  friend,  I  sometimes 
think  that  there  must  have  been  some  mistake.  That 
this  was  not  the  true  Hattie  Cramer.  I  do  not  think 
that  I  am  uncharitable,  you  know  that  I  am  not. 
Yet,  it  seems  to  me  that  it  is  impossible  that  such 
people  as  you  knew  the  parents  to  be  could  have  pro- 
duced an  offspring  so  utterly  opposed  in  nature  to 
their  characters.  I  cannot  help  a  feeling  of  relief 
that  you  are  spared  the  heartaches  that  her  future 
life  would  have  caused  you. 

"I  will  have  her  buried  here  after  the  postmortem. 
The  officials  think  it  wise  to  make  a  thorough  exami- 
nation, as  the  doctor  believes  there  are  good  reasons 
for  suspicion  that  there  has  been  foul  play.  I  hope 
that  their  suspicions  may  prove  groundless,  and  that 


UNCLE  CARL  129 

the  Good  Father  simply  took  her  to  himself  to  save 
her  from  evil. 

"I  have  notified  the  Probate  Judge  at  Kaloma  of 
Hattie's  death,  and  trust  that  no  new  complications 
of  an  unpleasant  nature  may  arise  in  that  quarter  for 
you. 

"May  the  God  of  all  good  bless  and  keep  you, 

"With    the   love   of   your    old    Sabbath-school 
teacher, 

"MRS.  HAZELTON. 

"P.  S. — Forgive  me,  Carl,  for  writing  such  a 
harsh  letter.  It  seems  unkind  to  speak  so  of  the 
dead,  but  the  relief  was  so  great. 

MRS.  H." 

Englewood's  sorrow  at  reading  the  above  was 
more  on  account  of  the  failure  of  the  plans  of  his 
old  friend,  Mr.  Cramer,  than  for  any  other  reason. 
Previous  letters  from  Mrs.  Hazelton  had  prepared 
him  for  this  outspoken  conception  of  Hattie's  char- 
acter. Yet  it  came  somewhat  as  a  shock  to  him. 
Mrs.  Hazelton  was  kindness  itself  to  all  with  whom 
she  came  in  contact,  and  had,  he  knew,  done  all  that 
could  be  done  for  Hattie's  health,  both  moral  and 
physical.  She  was  a  keen  judge  of  character,  how- 
ever, and  believed  that,  even  with  her  Master's  help, 
one  could  not  expect  to  "gather  grapes  of  thorns  nor 
figs  of  thistles."  To  her  it  seemed  a  pity  to  waste 
one's  energies  in  endeavoring  to  develop  characters 
in  which  evil  tendencies  predominated,  with  scarcely 
a  single  evidence  of  higher  leanings,  when  there 
were  so  many  in  the  world  in  whom  the  higher  germs 
needed  but  the  helping  hand  to  develop  grand  lives. 
Carl,  however,  liked  the  "tough  propositions,"  as  he 
9 


130  UNCLE  CARL 

termed  them.  He  took  a  strong  interest  in  smother- 
ing the  evil  weeds  with  the  luxuriant  growth  of  just 
one  small  germ  of  Truth.  Many  times  he  failed, 
yet  he  never  considered  the  devoted  energy  lost.  It 
gave  him  strength  for  renewed  effort,  if  it  accom- 
plished nothing  more.  And  though  he  had  looked 
forward  with  some  anxiety  to  his  ward's  future,  he 
was  prepared  to  enter  the  contest  with  the  vigor  of  a 
strong  mind  anxious  to  rear  a  beautiful  character  as 
a  monument  to  his  departed  friend. 

However,  that  was  all  over  now;  and  he  hastily 
wrote  a  few  lines  to  Mrs.  Hazelton  in  acknowledg- 
ment of  her  letter,  and  thanking  her  for  her  care  of 
the  charge  he  had  given  her. 

The  other  letter  was  from  Mr.  Courtright,  speak- 
ing of  the  news  of  Hattie's  death,  and  that  Stanhope 
and  Estes  were,  on  the  strength  of  that  information, 
about  to  make  efforts  to  close  the  estate.  Courtright 
had  not  seen  the  men,  but  from  what  he  had  learned 
it  was,  he  thought,  imperative  that  Englewood  return 
without  delay.  "I  believe  that  there  is  some  under- 
handed work  going  on,"  he  wrote,  "and  as  I  have 
no  legal  authority  in  the  matter  you  had  better  see 
to  it  personally  if  possible.  Wire  me  on  receipt  of 
this  whether  you  can  be  here  soon,  and  when." 
Ringing  for  a  messenger,  Carl  sent  the  following 
telegram. 

"GEORGE  COURTRIGHT, 

Chicago,  111. 

"Can  finish  work  here  and  be  there  in  fortnight. 
Stop  proceedings  till  then  if  possible. 

"ENGLEWOOD." 

Soon  after  he  was  called  to  the  hotel  lobby,  meet- 


UNCLE  CARL  131 

ing  there  Mr.  Stuart,  and  Mr.  Erickson,  an  expert 
chemist  from  Chicago,  who  with  Englewood  were  to 
examine  a  mine  in  the  vicinity;  their  report  thereon 
to  be  a  potent  influence  in  the  decision  of  an  Eastern 
syndicate  in  regard  to  the  purchase  of  the  property. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

In  the  early  seventies  a  mine  named  the  "Golden 
Pheasant"  was  located  a  short  distance  from  the 
present  city  of  Rock  Gulch.  A  company  was  formed 
and,  after  considerable  expenditure  of  labor  and 
capital,  it  was  developed  into  a  richly  paying  prop- 
erty. Successive  "levels"  of  paying  ore  were 
worked,  the  main  shaft  eventually  reaching  a  depth 
of  some  fourteen  hundred  feet.  There  is  a  limit  to 
the  paying  ore  in  every  mining  operation,  however, 
and  eventually  all  of  the  ore  that  could  be  worked  at 
a  profit  with  the  facilities  of  that  day  was  handled 
and  the  mine  abandoned.  Some  years  later  the 
"Plover"  mine,  a  smaller  claim  adjoining  the 
"Pheasant,"  was  worked  with  varying  success;  a 
shaft  being  sunk  some  three  hundred  feet,  and  a  pay 
streak  at  that  level  followed  until  it  broke  through 
the  wall  of  rock  into  an  abandoned  tunnel  of  the  old 
mine.  The  owners'  capital  being  at  a  low  ebb,  the 
work  on  this  mine  was  temporarily  suspended, 
though  the  shaft  and  timbers  were  kept  in  safe  con- 
dition pending  the  formation  of  a  new  company 
which,  with  modern  appliances,  might  advanta- 
geously handle  the  low  grade  ore,  which  was 
plentiful. 

Certain  speculators  investigating  this  newer  claim 
had  made  their  way  through  the  opening  into  the 
Golden  Pheasant  workings,  and  had  conceived  the 
idea  of  buying  up  this  older  property,  as  it  was  un- 
derstood that  the  owners  would  be  glad  to  sell  it  for 
a  very  small  figure. 

Having  for  a  nominal  sum  secured  a  lease,  with 


UNCLE  CARL  133 

the  option  of  buying  at  a  stated  price,  these  men  re- 
paired the  old  shaft  house,  put  in  a  new  hoist,  and 
after  some  weeks  of  labor  announced  the  discovery 
of  a  new  and  rich  lode  on  the  four-hundred- foot 
level.  They  then,  with  the  help  of  some  rich  ore 
samples,  fake  assay  reports,  and  other  persuasive 
arguments,  succeeded  in  interesting  certain  Eastern 
capitalists  in  the  property.  These  men  of  wealth 
were  wary,  however,  and  did  not  purpose  putting 
any  money  into  the  venture  without  a  careful  investi- 
gation by  men  of  their  own,  whom  they  could  trust. 
George  Courtright  was  one  of  those  interested,  and  it 
was  by  his  request  that  Englewood  was  to  accompany 
the  Eastern  chemist,  Mr.  Erickson,  and  others  on 
their  tour  of  investigation.  While  the  leaseholders 
were  cold  men  of  business,  there  was  no  suspicion 
but  that  they  were  men  of  honor.  Mr.  Stuart 
especially,  although  Englewood  would  never  have 
selected  him  for  a  friend,  had  a  plausible  and  decisive 
manner  that  begat  confidence  in  his  business  integrity. 
Yet,  it  was  the  policy  of  the  would-be-investors,  as 
it  should  be  of  every  man  who  seeks  interest  in  any- 
thing so  uncertain  as  mining  properties,  to  be  as  cer- 
tain as  possible,  by  investigations  by  men  of  known 
integrity  and  ability,  of  the  value  of  the  property  in 
which  they  were  to  invest  their  capital.  As  they 
climbed  up  the  old  mountain  trail,  Stuart  entertained 
them  with  an  instructive  talk  on  mines,  ores,  methods 
of  refining,  etc.,  showing  an  accurate  and  extensive 
knowledge  of  general  mining  business.  The  new 
ore  found  was  not  of  fabulous  richness,  he  told  them, 
but  ran  from  $15  to  $.20  per  ton  of  free  milling 
quality.  The  old  workings  showed  enormous 
amounts  of  ore  of  the  low  grade  of  $2  to  $4.  In- 
deed, he  claimed  that  even  the  old  dumps  could  be  re^ 


134  UNCLE  CARL 

worked  with  profit  by  the  modern  cyanide  process, 
though  by  the  old  methods  of  the  seventies  it  would 
cost  more  than  the  gold  was  worth  to  extract  it. 
Their  plan  was,  with  this  rich  find  as  an  inducement, 
to  interest  sufficient  capital  to  construct  a  large  and 
complete  modern  plant;  feeling  sure  that  there 
would  be  a  splendid  profit  for  all.  The  fullest, 
most  painstaking  investigation  he  courted,  prefer- 
ring that  the  men  who  furnished  the  capital  should 
know  exactly  the  existing  conditions. 

At  the  shaft-house,  after  spending  some  time 
examining  the  upper  works,  they  were  all  lowered  in 
the  cage  to  the  four-hundred  level,  where  they  found 
a  miner  with  a  car  of  ore  waiting  to  be  drawn  to  the 
surface.  Stuart  explained  that  there  were  but  two 
men  at  work  at  present,  and  they  were  doing  pros- 
pecting rather  than  regular  mining,  as  he  had  found 
indications  that  he  believed  would  lead  them  to  still 
other  rich  bodies  of  gold-bearing  quartz. 

The  men  passed  along  the  tunnel,  Mr.  Stuart — as 
it  seemed  to  Englewood — being  rather  unnecessarily 
emphatic  in  a  statement,  twice  repeated,  that  they 
were  now  alone  on  that  level,  the  man  they  passed 
having  ascended  and  the  other  miner  being  at  work 
on  the  level  above  them. 

The  tunnel  they  were  traversing  had  been  exca- 
vated by  the  old  company  for  a  distance  of  about  a 
quarter  of  a  mile,  and  the  walls  all  the  way  showed, 
to  the  experienced  eye,  a  good  quality  or  rock,  indic- 
ative of  more  or  less  gold,  but  not  of  sufficient  rich- 
ness to  warrant  blasting.  The  new  owners  had  con- 
tinued the  old  tunnel  about  six  rods,  though  in  a  new 
direction,  starting  from  the  old  workings  at  an  angle 
of  some  twenty  degrees.  It  was  here  that  the  special 
examination  was  to  be  made;  and  under  the  direc- 


UNCLE  CARL  135 

tion  of  Mr.  Erickson  several  canvas  bags  which  he 
had  brought  with  him  were  filled  with  the  ore-bear- 
ing rock,  which  the  expert  selected  at  random  from 
various  parts  of  the  new  excavation.  Each  bag, 
containing  some  fifty  pounds  of  rock,  was  carefully 
tied  and  sealed  and  placed  on  the  floor  at  the  angle 
of  the  tunnel.  Having  reached  at  length  the  end  of 
the  new  excavation,  Stuart  started  on  a  detailed  ex- 
planation of  the  plans  of  the  owner,  the  probabilities 
of  the  new-found  lead  being  a  continuation  of  the 
exceedingly  rich  lode  then  being  worked  in  the  "Cres- 
cent," a  mine  located  about  a  half  mile  distant,  and 
entered  generally  into  a  discussion  such  as  "pro- 
moters" love  to  muddle  the  heads  of  tenderfeet  with. 
This  kind  of  talk  was  somewhat  tiresome  to  Engle- 
wood,  who  was  not  particularly  interested  in  mining 
deals;  and  he,  after  nervously  pacing  up  and  down 
the  narrow  passage  for  a  time,  started  slowly  to 
walk  back  toward  the  shaft.  As  he  passed  the  angle 
where  the  new  and  the  old  tunnel  met  he  was  startled 
by  the  sound  of  hastily  retreating  footsteps,  and  look- 
ing ahead  saw  the  dancing  light  of  a  lantern.  Sus- 
pecting foul  play  of  some  kind,  he  ran  rapidly  down 
the  tunnel  and  laid  his  hand  on  the  shoulder  of  a  man 
just  as  he  was  about  to  enter  the  cage,  which  to 
Englewood's  surprise  was  still  at  the  opening  with 
its  load  of  ore.  With  an  oath  the  man  flung  off 
the  detaining  hand,  something  falling  with  a  faint 
metallic  sound  on  the  rocky  floor  as  he  did  so,  and 
springing  like  a  cat  onto  the  emergency  ladder  at  the 
side  of  the  shaft  rapidly  clambered  out  of  sight  above. 
Somewhat  mystified,  Englewood  was  about  to  return 
to  his  companions  when  his  foot  struck  something  on 
the  ground  which  again  gave  forth  a  metallic  clink. 
Lowering  his  lantern  he  searched  about  and  finally 


136  UNCLE  CARL 

found  a  small  hypodermic  syringe.  This,  to  an  old 
miner,  would  have  been  a  very  damning  thing  to  find 
under  such  circumstances,  but  to  Carl  it  meant  noth- 
ing more  than  that  the  man  he  had  tried  to  intercept 
was  probably  a  morphine  fiend;  and  he  placed  the 
little  instrument  in  his  pocket.  As  his  friends  were 
not  yet  in  sight,  he  concluded  that  he  might  as  well 
ascend  to  the  surface  and  await  them  there ;  he  there- 
fore seated  himself  more  or  less  comfortably  on  the 
top  of  the  car  of  ore  and  gave  the  signal  to  the  engi- 
neer above  to  lift  the  cage. 

Meanwhile,  the  man  who  was  so  nearly  caught 
had  climbed  up  the  ladder  as  far  as  the  three-hun- 
dred level,  muttering  curses  as  he  did  so;  and  stand- 
ing at  the  opening  there,  hurled  smothered  anathe- 
mas at  the  man  below.  "That  cursed  Englewood 
again  !  He's  crossed  my  path  too  often ;  by  G — d ! 
I'll  do  him  up  yit,"  and  passionately  grasping  a  bar 
of  iron  that  stood  against  the  side  of  the  tunnel,  he 
swung  it  around,  and  striking  the  rocky  floor  with 
it,  exclaimed,  "I  wisht  I  had  his  cussed  head  down 
thar,  the  d — d  meddler!" 

Just  then  the  heavy  cable  by  which  the  cage  is 
lowered  and  raised  began  to  move.  A  startled  oath 
and  his  eyes  glittered  with  a  fiendish  hate  as  he  ex- 
pressed the  hope  that  the  "d — d"  whelp  was  comin' 
up  alone !"  As  the  rising  cage  moved  rapidly  across 
the  opening  Carl  caught  a  fleeting  glimpse  of  the 
malignant  face  as,  recognizing  the  occupant,  the 
creature  quickly  thrust  the  iron  bar  under  the  ore-car 
with  its  end  projecting  about  a  foot  outside  the  cage. 
Carried  rapidly  upward  thus  projecting,  it  caught 
under  the  roof  of  the  tunnel,  tearing  the  bottom  out 
of  the  cage,  and  the  next  instant  a  dark  mass  passed 
the  opening  in  its  fall  of  eleven  hundred  feet  to  the 


UNCLE  CARL  137 

bottom  of  the  shaft.  With  a  snarl  of  triumph  the 
fiend  was  about  to  turn  away,  when  a  hand  was  laid 
heavily  on  his  arm  and  his  fellow-workman  said, 
"Jenkins,  what  in  h — 1  did  ye  do  that  for?"  With 
a  bound  the  man  hurled  the  witness  of  his  horrible 
deed  to  the  earth  and  ran  with  his  utmost  speed  along 
the  tunnel.  So  quickly  had  it  all  happened  that  the 
man  did  not  at  once  realize  the  enormity  of  the  crime 
he  had  committed.  Though  a  rascal  through  and 
through,  he  was  yet  of  too  cowardly  a  nature  to  have 
planned  and  executed  such  a  dastardly  thing  in  cold 
blood.  But  hatred,  anger,  and  opportunity  coin- 
cided so  exactly  that,  without  other  thought  than  the 
instinctive  animal  propensity  to  destroy  that  which 
opposed  his  pleasure,  he  had  done  that  for  which  the 
law  would  condemn  him  to  death  should  he  be 
caught.  He  realized  this  now,  as  he  made  his  way 
rapidly  on,  glancing  back  fearfully  as  he  ran  to  see 
if  he  was  followed.  He  soon  reached  the  end  of  the 
tunnel,  and  forcing  his  way  through  the  narrow  open- 
ing which  had  been  made  by  the  workers  of  the 
Plover  mine,  he  made  his  way  to  the  shaft  of  that 
mine  and,  climbing  up  the  ladder,  plunged  down  the 
mountain.  Keeping  away  from  the  city  from  fear 
that  the  authorities  would  already  be  on  the  watch 
for  him,  he  struck  out  across  the  valley,  and  about 
dusk  entered  a  small  way-station  of  the  U.  P.  R.  R. 
His  plans  were  by  this  time  formulated.  He  knew 
that  it  was  courting  death  to  remain  in  that  vicinity, 
and  the  sooner  he  placed  the  State  line  behind  him 
the  better.  He  had  money  with  him,  and  he  could 
think  of  no  better  course  than  to  return  to  the  East, 
where  a  certain  "Stanhope"  always  had  some  work 
afoot  that  he  could  assist  in.  He  had  some  good 
news  for  this  fellow-in-crime,  too,  and  on  the  spur  of 


138  UNCLE  CARL 

the  moment  he  entered  the  station  and  ordered  the 
following  telegram  sent: 

"JOHN  STANHOPE, 

"Kaloma,  Michigan. 

"Englewood   dead.     Fell  down   shaft.     Coming 

East  next  train.  J " 

He  then  sat  down  on  a  bench  in  the  waiting-room 
of  the  station,  and,  biting  off  a  huge  piece  of  tobacco, 
proceeded  to  plentifully  deluge  the  floor  with  his 
foul  expectorations,  while  he  waited  for  the  train 
which  was  to  carry  him  to  the  East,  and  compara- 
tive safety.  Let  us  now  leave  this  horrid  criminal 
and  return  to  the  Golden  Pheasant  shaft. 

When  Englewood  caught  the  fleeting  glimpse  of 
Jenkins  he  was  startled  at  the  fiendish  expression  of 
vindictive  hatred  as  the  heavy  iron  bar  was  thrust 
beneath  the  car  of  ore  on  which  he  sat.  Scarcely  an 
instant  was  there  for  thought,  however,  ere  the 
swiftly  ascending  cage  was  above  the  opening  and, 
the  bar  coming  in  contact  with  the  roof  of  the  tunnel, 
the  floor  of  the  cage  gave  way  and  the  heavy  car  of 
ore  was  precipitated  below.  Instinctively  Carl  had 
cast  his  arms  upward,  and  his  hands  coming  in  con- 
tact with  the  upper  frame  work  of  the  cage  he  clung 
to  it  and  was  left  dangling  above  that  eleven  hundred 
feet  of  blackness.  The  engineer  above,  feeling  the 
jar, — for  the  master  of  an  engine  is  as  sensitive  to 
every  unusual  strain  on  his  machine  as  he  would  be 
were  he  doing  its  work  himself, — had  instantly 
stopped  the  ascent.  It  seemed  ages  to  Carl,  though 
really  but  a  few  seconds,  ere  cautiously,  slowly,  the 
mechanism  was  again  put  in  motion  and  the  cage  rose 
to  the  surface.  As  it  came  into  view  the  engineer 


UNCLE  CARL  139 

uttered  a  gasp  as  he  quickly  took  in  Englewood's 
dangerous  position.  The  cage  was  wrenched  and 
splintered,  and  seemed  as  if  it  would  fall  to  pieces  of 
its  own  weight.  To  a  cross-bar  at  the  top  hung 
Englewood,  his  teeth  set  so  deeply  in  his  lip  that  the 
blood  was  running  down  his  chin  and  dripping  over 
his  shirtfront.  Stopping  the  machinery  the  engineer 
ran  quickly  to  the  shaft,  over  the  mouth  of  which  he 
threw  a  heavy  plank.  Stepping  on  this,  he  put  his 
arms  about  Carl's  body  and  carried  him,  exhausted 
with  the  severe  strain  both  mental  and  physical,  to 
the  floor  of  the  shaft-house. 

In  a  few  moments  Englewood  recovered  suffi- 
ciently to  explain  what  had  happened.  Before  he 
had  fairly  begun,  however,  a  tinkle  of  the  bell  told 
the  engineer  that  the  men  below  were  waiting  for  the 
cage,  that  they  might  be  hoisted  to  the  surface. 
Taking  a  large  sheet  of  paper,  the  engineer  hastily 
wrote  on  it,  "Cage  broken  down,  come  up  the  lad- 
der." Fastening  this  to  the  wreck  he  quickly  low- 
ered it  to  the  four-hundred  level,  and  a  few  minutes 
later  the  men  appeared  after  a  toilsome  and  danger- 
ous climb.  Their  horror  and  anger  at  the  dastardly 
crime  attempted  was  beyond  expression.  Steps  were 
immediately  taken  to  capture  Jenkins,  but  he  suc- 
ceeded in  escaping  for  the  time,  and  as  no  real  harm 
had  been  done  beyond  the  severe  nervous  shock,  from 
which  Carl  rapidly  recovered,  they,  at  his  request, 
forbore  extended  search. 

Arrangements  were  then  made  for  bringing  up  the 
bags  of  samples  and,  loading  them  on  a  wagon,  the 
party  returned  to  the  city.  On  their  way  thither, 
Carl,  who  was  riding  on  the  wagon  with  Mr.  Erick- 
son,  chanced  to  put  his  hand  in  his  pocket,  and  feel- 
ing there  the  instrument  that  he  had  found  in  the 


i4o  UNCLE  CARL 

tunnel,  he  produced  it,  and  told  of  the  way  it  had 
come  into  his  possession.  "The  poor  fellow  was 
probably  crazed,"  he  said;  "a  morphine  fiend,  with- 
out doubt."  The  chemist,  taking  the  instrument  in 
his  hand,  uttered  an  exclamation. 

"Did  you  say  that  fellow  was  running  away  from 
you  when  you  first  saw  him  ?"  he  asked. 

"Yes,"  said  Carl,  "he  must  have  been  hiding 
behind  the  bags  in  the  tunnel  when  I  turned  the 
angle." 

"Listen,"  said  the  expert,  as  he  glanced  behind 
him  at  Stuart,  who  was  walking  with  the  engineer 
some  distance  in  the  rear;  "don't  say  a  word  about 
this  to  any  one.  This  syringe  was  not  used  for  mor- 
phine. Morphine  in  solution  is  a  clear,  colorless 
liquid.  This,"  and  he  turned  the  instrument  so  that 
it  showed  a  drop  or  two  of  a  brownish-yellow  liquor, 
"is  something  entirely  different.  I  have  for  some 
time  had  my  suspicions  that  all  is  not  right  here.  I 
want  you  to  come  to  my  room  with  me  and  I  think 
that  I  can  show  you  something  interesting."  And 
putting  the  syringe  in  his  pocket  he  drew  out  a  cigar 
which  he  offered  Englewood,  and  lighting  one  him- 
self, conversation  was  continued  on  indifferent  topics 
as  Stuart  and  his  companion  drew  near. 

As  they  entered  the  city  Stuart  inquired  of  the 
chemist  when  they  might  expect  to  hear  a  report  on 
the  ore  samples.  "I  presume,"  he  said,  "that  you 
will  take  them  East  with  you  and  make  your  report 
from  there." 

"Well,"  was  the  reply,  "that  is  what  I  had  in- 
tended; but  as  I  have  a  little  time  to  spare  I  may 
make  the  analysis  here.  Come  around  to-morrow 
morning  and  I'll  let  you  know." 

"All  right,"  said  Stuart.     "I,  of  course,  would  like 


UNCLE  CARL  141 

to  have  the  report  as  soon  as  possible,  though  I  am 
sure  that  you  will  find  all  as  I  have  represented. 
Suppose  I  call  at  about,  say  ten  o'clock,  would  that  be 
too  early?" 

"To  early  for  complete  analysis,  as  you  know," 
replied  the  chemist;  "still  I  may  be  able  to  give  you 
some  knowledge.  Several  days  will  be  required  to 
make  a  complete  test." 

"Well,  I'll  call  around  at  ten,  anyhow,"  said  Stuart, 
and  as  they  had  now  arrived  at  the  hotel  he  left  them, 
while  the  Eastern  man  had  the  bags  of  ore  carried  to 
his  room. 

The  last  twenty-four  hours  had  been  rather 
strenuous  ones  for  Englewood,  and  he  expressed  the 
wish  to  have  a  good  clean  up  and  a  rest  for  an  hour 
or  so  before  doing  anything  more.  Mr.  Erickson 
agreed.  "After  supper  will  do,"  he  said.  "I  feel 
the  need  of  a  little  scrubbing  myself." 

Going  to  his  room  Carl  indulged  in  a  refreshing 
bath,  and  then  lying  down  enjoyed  a  good  nap  until 
aroused  by  the  supper  call  an  hour  later. 

After  satisfying  their  appetites  and  enjoying  a  good 
cigar,  Englewood  and  the  chemist  retired  to  the  lat- 
ter's  room,  where,  after  locking  the  door  to  secure 
them  from  possible  interruptions,  Mr.  Erickson  said : 

"I  want  to  make  two  or  three  little  tests  to-night, 
and  if  the  results  are  as  I  anticipate  I  think  that  you 
will  find  them  decidedly  interesting.  While  every- 
thing may  be  all  right,  I  feel  suspicious  of  this  mining 
deal.  Stuart,  especially,  impresses  me  as  being  a 
man  it  were  well  to  watch." 

"I  don't  know  Stuart  very  well,"  replied  Carl,  "but 
though  he  is  not  such  a  man  as  I  would  care  to  culti- 
vate as  a  friend,  he  has  an  excellent  reputation  as  a 


1 42  UNCLE  CARL 

business  man ;  and  I  would  hardly  think  him  capable 
of  anything  underhanded." 

"Perhaps  so,  perhaps  so,"  said  Erickson,  "but  we 
will  reserve  our  judgment  for  a  little  while." 

Busying  himself  with  sundry  bottles  and  glasses  he 
continued,  "Now,  that  syringe  that  you  thought  con- 
tained morphine.  If  my  suspicions  are  correct,  it 
contains  instead  of  morphine  that  which  will  put  to 
sleep  a  gigantic  swindle.  If  I  am  wrong  no  harm 
will  be  done,  because  my  suspicions  are  at  present 
known  only  to  you  and  to  myself.  There  is  just  one 
thing  that  that  tube  could  contain  which  would  be  of 
interest  to  us  in  our  experiment,  and  that  is  chloride 
of  gold.  I  am  going  to  assume  that  it  is  chloride  of 
gold,  and  will  proceed  accordingly.  You  will  observe 
that  there  are  two  or  three  drops  of  a  brownish- 
yellow  liquor  in  it,"  he  said,  holding  the  syringe 
toward  the  light.  "I  am  now  going  to  dilute  those 
two  or  three  drops  with  water,"  and  he  inserted  the 
needle  in  a  glass  of  water  and  partially  filled  the  in- 
strument, and  then  shaking  it  sharply  held  it  to  the 
light,  the  color  of  the  contents  being  now  of  a  light 
amber  tint. 

Erickson  then  produced  a  glass  test  tube,  into 
which  he  poured  a  small  quantity  of  liquor  from 
each  of  two  bottles,  and  turning  to  Englewood  said : 

"I  have  in  this  tube  a  mixture  of  stannous  and 
stannic  chlorides.  To  the  uninitiated  I  would  say 
that  these  are  names  for  certain  chemical  forms  of 
common  tin.  Now  I  am  going  to  put  a  drop  or  so 
of  the  contents  of  the  syringe  into  this  mixture.  If 
my  assumption  is  correct,  and  there  is  the  least  trace 
of  chloride  of  gold  in  the  syringe,  a  precipitate  of  a 
peculiar  rich  purple  tint  will  be  formed;  and  I  will 
say  further  that  no  other  known  substance  will  pro- 


UNCLE  CARL  143 

duce  this  beautiful  color,  called  the  'Purple  of  Cas- 
sius,'  under  these  conditions." 

So  saying  he  held  the  needle  point  above  the  test 
tube  and  allowed  a  drop  of  the  liquid  to  fall.  In- 
stantly the  purple  color  was  evident,  and  with  a  satis- 
fied smile  Erickson  turned  to  Carl.  "You  see  I  was 
right  so  far,  eh!" 

"Yes,"  replied  Englewood,  who  was  intensely  in- 
terested in  the  experiment,  but  could  not  yet  under- 
stand its  significance.  "I  am  not  much  of  a  chemist 
myself;  not  anything  of  a  chemist  in  fact,  though 
I  always  did  enjoy  watching  the  experiments.  But 
what  has  this  to  do  with  your  suspicions?" 

"Well,"  said  Erickson  facetiously,  but  with  the 
half-veiled  contempt  which  knowledge  often  holds 
for  ignorance,  "you  are  not  very  wide-awake,  are 
you.  I  believe  you  would  be  an  easy  mark  for  a 
gold-brick  fraud.  Now,  see  here.  Over  there  in  the 
corner  are  six  bags  of  ore  that  I  am  supposed  to 
assay.  I  propose  making  a  little  preliminary  exami- 
nation to-night." 

So  saying,  he  brought  the  bags  nearer  to  the  light. 
The  canvas  was  new  and,  save  where  soiled  from 
handling,  was  clean  and  white.  Turning  one  of  the 
bags  over  and  over  Erickson  examined  it  carefully, 
but  evidently  found  nothing  to  interest  him.  He  ex- 
amined another  and  then  a  third.  He  was  about  to 
discard  this  also  when  he  hesitated  a  moment,  and 
then  taking  out  his  pocket-knife  he  scraped  off  a 
little  dried  earth  that  had  clung  to  it.  "Ah !"  he  said, 
with  a  little  sigh  of  satisfaction,  "that  is  what  I  was 
looking  for,"  and  he  called  Englewood's  attention  to 
a  small  brownish  stain  in  the  canvas.  The  other 
sacks  were  then  examined,  and  on  one  of  them  also 
was  found  a  similar  discoloration.  "Now,"  said  the 


i44  UNCLE  CARL 

chemist,  "I  may  still  be  wrong;  in  my  profession  we 
must  prove  every  step  before  we  say  a  thing  is  so  and 
so.  My  assumption,  however,  is  that  some  one  with 
a  hypodermic  syringe  has  injected  a  solution  of 
chloride  of  gold  into  these  bags,  and  that  a  drop  of 
the  liquor  clinging  to  the  needle-point  has  stained  the 
canvas  as  he  withdrew  it.  To  prove  this  I  purpose 
applying  the  same  test  to  the  bags  that  I  have  to  the 
contents  of  the  syringe."  With  his  knife  Erickson 
then  cut  out  of  each  bag  a  small  round  piece  of  can- 
vas containing  the  stains.  "Some  further  explana- 
tion may  be  of  interest  to  you  before  we  proceed,"  he 
continued.  "A  peculiar  characteristic  of  chloride  of 
gold  is,  that  upon  exposure  to  the  light  for  a  time  it 
changes  to  a  metallic  form,  which  is  not  soluble  in 
water.  Metallic  gold  if  introduced  into  our  mixture 
of  stannous  and  stannic  chlorides  would  fall  at  once 
to  the  bottom  and  produce  no  phenomenon  of  inter- 
est. Only  gold  in  the  form  of  chloride  will  produce 
the  'Purple  of  Cassius.'  There  may  be,  however,  in 
these  stains  a  trace  of  chloride  of  gold  which  has  not 
yet  been  converted  to  the  metallic  form.  If  so,  that 
chloride  will  be  readily  dissolved  by  water  and  we 
will  proceed  as  before.  You  will  understand  from 
this  that  if  any  metallic  gold  from  the  ore  contained 
in  the  bags  should  cling  to  this  piece  of  canvas  it 
could  not  produce  the  result  I  expect." 

Erickson  then  placed  one  of  the  canvas  discs  in  a 
glass,  and  pouring  a  little  water  over  it  continued : 

"If  this  test  should  fail  there  is  another,  interest- 
ing as  an  experiment  but  not  so  conclusive  as  this 
would  be.  That  is  the  crucible  test.  As  I  have  said, 
chloride  of  gold  changes  to  the  metallic  state  upon 
exposure  to  the  light.  By  reducing  the  bit  of  canvas 
to  ashes  in  the  crucible  and  introducing  into  this  resi- 


UNCLE  CARL  145 

due  hydrochloric  and  nitric  acids  in  the  proportions, 
roughly,  of  five  parts  to  three,  the  metallic  gold  will 
again  be  changed  to  chloride  which,  soluble  in  water, 
we  could  proceed  with  as  in  our  former  test.  This 
would  not  be  conclusive  evidence  of  fraud,  however, 
because  abrasion  of  the  gold  bearing  rock  against  the 
canvas  might  leave  a  trace  of  gold,  which  would — it 
also  being  changed  to  the  chloride  form — be  shown 
in  the  test  tube.  However,  we  will  proceed  with  this 
test  first."  Producing  a  fresh  test  tube  he  again 
poured  a  mixture  of  stannous  and  stannic  chlorides 
into  it,  and  then  introducing  a  drop  of  the  liquid 
from  the  water-soaked  canvas  into  it,  the  same  beau- 
tiful purple  color  was  produced.  Turning  to  Engle- 
wood  with  contemptuous  confidence,  Erickson  said, 
"I  now  pronounce  Mr.  Stuart  and  his  associates  in 
this  mining  deal  to  be  a  parcel  of  infernal  scoundrels, 
who  ought  to  be  sent  to  the  penitentiary !" 

"But,  why?"  asked  Carl.  "I  know  that  I  am 
densely  ignorant  on  such  matters,  but  though  your 
experiments  have  been  very  interesting,  I  do  not  see 
why  the  introduction  of  such  infinitesimal  portions  of 
gold  into  these  ore  sacks  could  be  of  special  import- 
ance. There  surely  could  not  be  enough  of  it  to>  alter 
the  ultimate  assay  appreciably." 

"Couldn't  there!"  ejaculated  Erickson.  "Why, 
listen;  these  sacks  contain  on  an  average  say  fifty 
pounds  of  ore  apiece.  Suppose  that  into  each  bag 
there  should  be  injected  a  half-dollar's  worth  of  gold 
chloride — and  the  syringe  could  easily  contain  more 
than  that.  By  our  process  the  value  of  every  par- 
ticle of  gold  in  the  sack  is  estimated  almost  to  a  cent. 
Fifty  cents  increase  of  gold  value  to  a  sack  means 
twenty  dollars  increase  per  ton;  and  twenty-dollar 

10 


146  UNCLE  CARL 

ore  is  a  very  valuable  proposition  to  would-be  invest- 
ors. Do  you  see  now?" 

"Whew!  I  should  say  I  do,"  replied  the  aston- 
ished Englewood.  "But  really,  I  don't  like  to  think 
that  Stuart  is  a  party  to  any  such  fraud.  I  have  been 
of  the  opinion  that  he  is  in  the  main  an  honorable 
man.  Don't  you  suppose  that  this  man  Jenkins — " 

"Stuart  not  a  party  to  the  fraud!"  indignantly  in- 
terrupted the  chemist.  "Of  course  he  is,  and  prob- 
ably the  chief  instigator  of  it.  Jenkins  was  simply  a 
tool  of  his.  But  wait.  Stuart  will  be  around  here 
to-morrow  morning,  and  if  you  will  be  on  hand  I 
think  you  will  be  able  to  decide  for  yourself  whether 
he  knew  anything  about  it  or  not." 

"I'll  surely  be  on  hand,"  said  Englewood,  and  soon 
after  the  two  parted  for  the  night. 


CHAPTER  XV 

At  about  ten  o'clock  in  the  forenoon  of  the  follow- 
ing day  Carl  and  the  chemist  were  smoking  their 
cigars  in  the  lobby  of  the  hotel  when  Mr.  Stuart 
entered. 

"Good  morning,  gentlemen,"  he  cordially  said, 
as  he  seated  himself.  "An  ideal  morning,  isn't  it?" 

"Yes,  indeed,"  assented  Englewood.  "This  is 
weather  that  makes  one  feel  glad  that  he  is  alive." 

"Some  people  perhaps,"  grunted  the  chemist 
surlily,  "but  some  others  will  feel  mighty  sorry  that 
they  have  lived  on  this  particular  morning." 

"Got  the  blues,  eh?"  asked  Stuart.  "You  do  seem 
sorry  about  something.  How  did  your  assay 
progress,  or  haven't  you  done  anything  yet?" 

"Oh,  well  enough,  well  enough,"  said  Erickson. 
"Come  up  to  my  quarters,  you  gentlemen,  and  I'll 
show  you  something  interesting,"  and  leading  the 
way  he  ushered  the'two  men  to  his  room. 

Inviting  them  to  be  seated,  the  chemist,  while  ap- 
parently busying  himself  with  the  glasses  and  bottles 
on  his  table,  said: 

"By  the  way,  Stuart,  who  was  that  fellow  that 
tried  to  wreck  the  cage  yesterday?  An  employee  of 
yours?" 

"Well,  yes,"  said  Stuart.  "I  have  had  him  do 
some  work  in  the  mine.  But  he's  a  worthless  sort  of 
a  fellow.  I  gave  him  the  job  rather  out  of  charity 
than  anything  else." 

"But  what  was  he  doing  down  there?  I  thought 
you  said  we  were  alone,"  queried  Erickson. 

"Oh,  I  presume  that  he  went  back  for  a  tool  or 


148  UNCLE  CARL 

something  he  left  behind,"  Stuart  replied,  "and  prob- 
ably Mr.  Englewood  startled  him  when  he  appeared 
so  suddenly.  He  is  a  good  deal  of  a  coward.  I 
never  would  have  thought  he  could  have  nerve 
enough  to  try  the  trick  he  did.  Must  have  had  a 
grudge  against  you,  hadn't  he,  Mr.  Englewood?" 

"Not  that  I  know  of,"  said  Carl.  "I  have  the  im- 
pression that  I  have  seen  him  somewhere  before,  but 
I  can't  place  him  exactly.  I  only  had  a  fleeting 
glimpse  of  his  face.  Isn't  he  rather  dissipated?" 

"Oh,  like  all  of  his  class,"  replied  Stuart,  "he 
drinks  more  or  less ;  but  he  is  sober  enough  most  of 
the  time.  But  why  are  you  so  interested  in  him  ?  It 
seems  to  me  hardly  worth  while  to  bother  with  him. 
He  has  done  no  harm  and  is  probably  well  out  of 
the  country  before  this." 

"But  he  might  have  done  considerable  harm," 
growled  the  chemist,  "and  he  is  a  dangerous  man  to 
run  around  loose.  All  morphine  fiends  are  liable  to 
run  amuck — " 

"Ha,  ha,"  laughed  Stuart,  "there  you  are  way  off, 
Mr.  Erickson;  he  is  no  morphine  fiend,  I  know 
that." 

"Then  what  use  had  he  for  this?"  asked  the 
chemist,  and  turning  suddenly  he  held  the  hypoder- 
mic syringe  before  Stuart's  eyes,  which  immediately 
contracted  to  two  narrow  slits  as  he  started  slightly; 
and  a  wary,  on-the-defensive  look  took  the  place  of 
the  hitherto  open,  cordial  expression. 

"That's  not  his,"  he  said;  "that's  m —  a — a  that 
is — I  don't  know  what  use  he  could  have  for  it. 
What  is  it,  anyhow?" 

"You  know  very  well  what  it  is,  Stuart,"  said 
Erickson.  "It's  a  hypodermic  syringe  dropped  by 
Jenkins  in  the  tunnel  as  he  jerked  away  from  Mr. 


UNCLE  CARL  149 

Englewood.  It  had  in  it,  as  I  have  proved  by  chem- 
ical tests,  chloride  of  gold.  You  know  what  that 
means." 

"No,"  replied  Stuart  coolly,  as  he  regained  his 
confidence.  "I  don't  know  that  I  do  know  what  it 
means.  Jenkins  may  have  been  trying  the  'gold 
cure'  for  his  drinking  habit  for  aught  I  know,"  he 
facetiously  added. 

"Yes,  you  do  know  what  it  means !"  returned 
Erickson  emphatically.  "It  means  that  you  em- 
ployed Jenkins  to  steal  back  and  'salt'  my  samples." 

"That's  a  very  grave  charge  to  make,  Mr.  Erick- 
son," indignantly  replied  Stuart.  "A  charge  that  is 
liable  to  make  some  trouble  for  the  one  who  advances 
it.  Some  greater  proof  of  fraud  is  necessary  than 
that  a  poor  fool  has  dropped  a  glass  syringe." 

"We  have  that  proof,"  replied  Erickson,  and  he 
held  up  the  two  canvas  disks  that  he  had  cut  out  of 
the  ore  sacks.  "The  stains  on  these  two  bits  of  rag 
also  contain  chloride  of  gold.  It's  no  use,  Stuart, 
the  deal  is  off.  We  know  you  thoroughly.  But  there 
is  a  duty  to  be  done  besides  calling  off  the  deal,  and  I 
purpose  seeing  it  done." 

"For  God's  sake,  you  don't  mean  to  prosecute,  do 
you?"  said  Stuart,  who  had  lost  his  confident  atti- 
tude. "You  surely  wouldn't  try  to  disgrace  a  man  of 
my  standing  on  the  evidence  of  a  syringe  and  a 
couple  of  bits  of  rag?" 

"That  depends  somewhat  upon  yourself,"  said 
Erickson  grimly.  "You  acknowledge,  don't  you,  that 
I  have  caught  you  in  a  very  dirty  piece  of  work? 
A  piece  of  work  that,  if  carried  into  the  courts  on 
this  and  the  other  evidence  of  your  employees," — 
Stuart  started  at  this, — "would  place  you  behind  the 
bars." 


150  UNCLE  CARL 

"Gentlemen,"  said  Stuart,  after  a  moment's  hesi- 
tation, "suppose  I  do  admit  this.  Mind,  I  do  not, 
but  just  suppose  I  do.  What  do  you  purpose  do- 
ing?" 

"Just  this,"  answered  the  chemist.  "It  is  our  pur- 
pose to  prevent  your  playing  this  same  fraud  on  any 
one  else.  You  should  be  behind  the  bars,  but  we  will 
agree  to  not  press  you  on  this  affair  if  you  will  get 
out  of  the  country  within  twenty-four  hours,  and 
stay  out,  and  before  going  turn  over  your  lease  and 
option  on  the  Pheasant  to  us." 

"Ha!"  ejaculated  Stuart  suspiciously;  "then  you 
have  discovered  that  the  mine  is  just  as  I  represented, 
have  you,  and  you  are  trying  to  frighten  me  into 
turning  the  whole  thing  over  to  you,  are  you !  Not 

by  a  d d  sight!     I'm  onto  you  now,   and   I'd 

like  to  just  ask  you,  who  is  the  scoundrel  now?" 

"You,  you  infernal  whelp!"  excitedly  exclaimed 
Erickson  as  he  shook  his  fist  in  Stuart's  face.  Not 
a  thing  has  been  discovered  but  your  own  under- 
handed work.  You  are  such  a  cursed  fraud  yourself 
that  you  find  it  impossible  to  believe  in  the  honesty 
of  any  one  else." 

"You  are  wrong  there,  Erickson,"  said  Stuart. 
"There  is  just  one  man  I  have  met  in  my  life  that  I 
believe  is  honest.  If  Mr.  Englewood  here  will  back 
up  your  assertion  I'll  believe  it.  I  don't  know  why 
it  is,"  he  continued,  looking  toward  Carl,  "but  some- 
how I'd  accept  your  simple  word  in  preference  to 
the  oath  of  a  score  of  any  other  men  on  'the  foot- 
stool.' ' 

^  "So  far  as  I  know,  Mr.  Stuart,"  said  Carl,  "Mr. 
Erickson  has  told  only  the  exact  truth.  There  have 
been  no  discoveries  other  than  this  attempted  fraud 
that  I  am  aware  of." 


UNCLE  CARL  151 

"And  will  you  give  me  your  word  that  the  mat- 
ter will  go  no  further,  if  I  accept  Erickson's  pro- 
posal?" asked  Stuart. 

"I  think  that  you  may  rely  upon  his  word," 
answered  Carl.  "So  far  as  I  am  concerned  you  will 
have  no  trouble." 

"Then  I  yield,"  said  Stuart  in  crestfallen  tones. 
"I  acknowledge  that  I  tried  to  play  the  sharp  game. 
But  it  was  all  in  the  way  of  business.  Those  rich 
fellows  can  afford  to  lose  the  money;  they  wouldn't 
feel  good  if  they  weren't  bit  once  in  a  while,  and  I 
might  as  well  have  their  cash  as  any  one.  But  it's  no 
use  to  try  to  carry  this  game  any  further.  You'd 
queer  it  anyhow." 

"Well,  let's  get  down  to  business,"  said  Erickson 
impatiently.  "Shall  we  go  over  to  the  office  with 
you  for  those  papers?" 

"Not  necessary,  not  necessary,"  said  Stuart.  "I 
happen  to  have  them  with  me."  As  he  selected  a 
long  envelope  from  several  that  he  took  from  his 
pocket,  he  inquired,  "I  would  like  to  know  what  you 
fellows  are  going  to  do  with  these  papers?" 

"That's  none  of  your  business,"  said  Erickson; 
"but  I  don't  mind  telling  you  that  I  intend  to  turn 
them  over  to  the  owners,  or  at  least  to  let  the  own- 
ers know  about  your  game;  for  I  am  sure  that  they 
would  not  be  a  party  to  any  such  transaction.  The 
lease  expires  in  two  weeks  anyhow.  But  mind  you," 
he  added,  as  he  took  the  envelope,  "if  you  are  in  the 
city  at  this  time  to-morrow  I'll  have  the  officers  after 
you  in  a  hurry." 

"I'm  sorry,  Stuart,"  said  Carl  as  the  defeated 
fraud  started  to  leave  the  room,  "that  things  have 
turned  out  this  way;  but  do  you  know,"  with  a 
humorous  smile,  "it  really  confirms  me  in  an  opinion 


152  UNCLE  CARL 

I  gave  you  two  days  ago.  That  is,  I'd  rather  trust 
my  business  affairs  with  a  man  of  heart,  than  with 
the  successful  worker  who  is  too  much  afraid  of 
losing  his  dignity  to  play  'mibs'  with  the  boys." 

"Mr.  Englewood,"  exclaimed  Stuart,  "it's  impos- 
sible to  not  believe  in  you,  whether  you  play  'mibs' 
or  not.  You  are  one  in  a  million,  and  I  wish  that  I 
were  worthy  to  be  classed  with  your  friends.  Do 
not  think  I  am  altogether  bad.  I  am  bad  enough, 
but  there  is  some  good  in  me.  I  want  to  ask  you  to 
shake  hands  with  me;  I  am  not  worth  it,  but  some- 
how I  feel  that  it  will  be  good  to  shake  hands  with 
an  honest  man." 

Carl  grasped  the  extended  hand  warmly.  "Try 
to  be  a  true  man,"  he  said;  "it  is  the  best  way — the 
easiest  way — the  only  way  to  live  happily.  And 
happiness  is  the  only  goal  worth  striving  for,  after 
all." 

"I  will  try!  I  will  try,  Englewood,"  said  Stuart. 
"I  thank  you,  and — good-by." 

Strange,  strange!  The  influence  of  Truth  is  an 
uplifting  force,  whenever  and  wherever  found.  The 
influence  of  a  pure  life  puts  to  shame  the  most,  suc- 
cessful man  of  the  world  whose  success  has  been 
tainted  with  impure  motives  or  dishonorable  meth- 
ods. And  Carl  Englewood's  life,  though  not  suc- 
cessful as  the  world  views  success,  was  yet  built  on 
such  rocks  that  even  criminals  of  low  order  felt  his 
influence,  and  were  rendered  less  despicable  as  that 
influence  drew  to  the  surface  some  of  the  good  that 
is  innate  in  the  heart  of  every  man,  no  matter  how 
deeply  it  may  be  covered  with  the  dross  of  shame, 
crime,  and  dishonor.  No  man  can  accurately  esti- 
mate the  power  and  extent  of  his  influence  in  the 


UNCLE  CARL  153 

world.  Each  one  of  Mother  Nature's  children  is  as 
a  king,  a  model,  for  some  other  child.  No  matter 
how  high  or  how  low,  rich  or  poor,  learned  or  un- 
learned a  man  may  be,  some  one — and  perhaps 
many — look  to  his  life  for  strength  or  guidance.  He 
is  a  model  for  others;  perhaps  for  those  he  least 
suspects  of  using  him  for  such  a  purpose.  If  he 
sins  he  serves  as  an  excuse  for  others  to  sin  also.  If 
his  life  is  pure,  then  his  influence,  though  he  knows  it 
not,  tends  to  feed  and  uplift  the  hungry  germs  of 
beauty  and  truth  in  the  hearts  of  mankind.  If  he  is 
earnest,  and  patient,  and  courageous,  and  self-deny- 
ing then  are  those  with  whom  his  life  comes  in  con- 
tact spurred  on  to  emulate  in  some  measure  his  higher 
conception  of  life's  responsibilities.  And  every- 
where he  goes,  though  he  speak  but  little,  or  not  at 
all,  he  will  be  observed;  and  even  though  some  that 
meet  him  will  be  unable  to  analyze  their  thoughts, 
they  may  even  forget  in  a  few  minutes  that  they  have 
met  him,  yet  will  they  feel  the  air  balmier,  the  sky 
bluer,  life  pleasanter.  They  will  feel  that  some- 
thing good  has  entered  into  their  hearts  and  lives  and 
that  the  journey  onward  is  after  all  worth  while. 

And  so  it  was  with  Carl  Englewood.  Though 
with  his  full  share  of  faults,  weak  in  some  ways, 
shortsighted  in  others,  he  was  thoroughly  sincere  in  all 
that  he  did;  blameless  in  spite  of  his  faults.  His 
sincerity  and  earnestness  of  purpose  had  its  inevitable 
result  in  so  moulding  his  features,  his  expression,  his 
manner,  that  those  with  whom  he  came  in  contact 
were  invariably  of  the  one  opinion,  "This  is  an  honest 
man."  They  might  not  agree  with  his  opinions. 
His  ways  of  thinking  and  of  doing  might  not  seem 
to  them  the  wisest  way,  yet  always  they  would 
agree  that  in  his  heart  Truth  reigned  supreme.  So 


154  UNCLE  CARL 

that  even  Stuart,  crooked  as  was  his  own  character, 
deemed  it  an  honor  to  be  taken  by  the  hand  by  such 
a  man.  And  who  shall  say  that  his  influence  was  not 
powerful  enough  to  arrest  in  some  degree  the  down- 
ward tendency  of  the  criminal's  life?  Every  one,  no 
matter  what  his  condition,  has  a  strong  influence  for 
good  or  evil;  and  that  influence,  of  the  weakest  as 
well  as  of  the  strongest  character,  is  eternal.  Every 
act,  no  matter  how  trivial,  puts  into  motion  conditions 
that  shall  influence  untold  generations  for  weal  or 
woe. 

As  a  poet  has  so  well  expressed, 

"Deeds  are  the  pulse  of  Time:    his  breathing  life; 
And,   righeous  or   unrighteous,   being  done 
Must  throb  in  after  throbs  till  Time  itself 
Be  laid  in   stillness,   and   the   universe 
Quiver  and  breathe  on  no  mirror  more." 


CHAPTER  XVI 

On  the  next  day,  but  one,  following  the  events  nar- 
rated in  our  last  chapter,  Englewood  and  the 
chemist  were  strolling  about  the  city  streets.  It  was 
at  early  twilight,  that  hour  when  a  lull  falls  over 
the  day's  activities,  and  a  brief  respite,  a  quiet  rest, 
intervenes  ere  the  demons  of  carousal  arouse  the  city 
with  their  myriad  flashes  of  light,  and  bid  their 
friends  start  the  wild  orgies  of  debauchery.  The  two 
men  had  been  discussing  Stuart  and  the  failure  of 
his  plans.  Erickson,  a  man  of  some  forty-five  years, 
had  in  his  professional  career  uncovered  so  many 
fraudulent  schemes  that  he  had  come  to  have  very 
little  faith  in  the  rectitude  of  the  average  man.  Him- 
self honest  to  the  very  core,  he  had  naught  but  con- 
tempt for  the  man  who  would  deliberately  violate 
principle.  To  discover  deceit  meant,  with  him,  to 
regard  the  deceiver  as  unworthy  of  any  considera- 
tion; but  before  casting  him  out  he  believed  in  de- 
stroying the  fangs,  that  the  human  snakes  might  be 
rendered  less  harmful.  Little  thought  would  he  give 
to  the  after  career  of  the  sinner.  While  he  had  a 
heart  large  enough  to  embrace  the  whole  world,  and 
for  those  whom  he  loved  he  never  wearied  in  atten- 
tion ;  benevolent  beyond  his  means,  kindness  itself  to 
the  unfortunate;  yet  if  one  attempted  to  impose  on 
him,  if  there  appeared  the  least  proof  of  deceit,  or  if 
he  discovered  anything  dishonest  in  one's  character, 
even  though  it  bore  no  reference  to  himself,  he  would 
in  his  bitter  contempt  devote  the  sinner  to  everlast- 
ing condemnation.  Not  that  he  would  actively  wreak 
vengeance  upon  the  erring  one,  but  he  would  abide 


156  UNCLE  CARL 

passively  even  if  evil  an  hundred  fold  worse  than  the 
crime  justified  should  overwhelm  the  sinner,  and  he 
would  not  lift  a  hand  to  save.  "For,"  he  would 
say,  "the  creature  is  unworthy  to  live;  why  then 
should  I  do  an  injustice  to  humanity  by  treating  him 
as  if  worthy  of  any  consideration." 

In  depriving  Stuart  of  his  lease  and  option  on  the 
Golden  Pheasant  mine  he  was  only  following  out 
this  creed.  Discovering  the  attempted  fraud,  he 
deemed  it  but  justice  to  deprive  the  trickster  of  the 
means  of  trying  the  same  project  on  other  parties. 
He  did  not  think  it  worth  while  to  consider  what 
rights  Stuart  might  have  in  spite  of  his  scheming. 
"He's  just  a  damned  rascal,"  he  said,  "and  I  ought 
to  prosecute  him ;  but  I  don't  like  to  mix  up  in  court 
affairs,  it  takes  so  much  time,  so  I'll  let  him  go." 

•"But  the  man  must  have  put  a  deal  of  money  into 
the  project,"  said  Carl.  "The  hoisting  engine  and 
general  repairs  must  have  cost  considerable,  and  I 
have  my  doubts  whether  you  do  right  to  deprive  him 
of  them." 

"I  don't  deprive  him  of  them,"  replied  Erickson. 
"He  can  come  back  and  get  them  if  he  wants  to, 
only — he  don't  dare  do  it  for  fear  of  prosecution." 

"Same  thing,"  said  Englewood,  "same  thing, 
whether  you  prevent  him  by  fear  or  force.  Still,  it 
was  a  dastardly  thing  that  he  attempted,  and,  if  suc- 
cessful, would  have  been  nothing  less  than  theft.  I 
hardly  think,  though,  that  I  would  have  taken  the 
same  steps  that  you  consider  so  just.  To  me  there  is 
something  good  in  every  man;  and  while  I  certainly 
believe  in  preventing  crime,  I  also  believe  in  giving 
the  good  a  chance  to  grow.  Turning  him  off  as  you 
did  would,  it  seems  to  me,  only  arouse  a  vengeful 
feeling,  and  without  deterring  him  from  future  crime 


UNCLE  CARL  157 

would  simply  increase  his  wariness  and  strengthen 
his  antagonism  toward  the  right  way  of  living." 

"Oh,  shucks !  You  can't  make  an  oak  tree  out  of 
a  gooseberry  bush,"  replied  Erickson.  "This  man  is 
a  natural  criminal,  and  no  amount  of  preaching  or 
leniency  would  make  him  anything  but  a  criminal. 
Why,  what  else  could  I  do  than  I  have  done  in  his 
case  except  to  prosecute  him  for  attempted  fraud?" 

"I  don't  know  that  you  could  have  done  anything 
that  would  accomplish  different  results  than  will  be 
produced  from  the  course  you  have  taken,"  replied 
Englewood.  "Only,  it's  worth  while  to  try  some- 
times, yes,  all  times,  to  leave  a  man  where  we  have 
found  a  scamp.  One  may  fail  a  thousand  times,  but 
if  he  then  succeeds  just  once,  he  will  have  proved  his 
own  right  to  live.  If  he  just  earnestly  tries  to  elevate 
poor  sinners,  and  fails  in  every  one  of  ten  thousand 
trials,  he  proves  his  right  to  a  place  in  the  world. 
But,  if  he  never  tries  to  use  his  higher  abilities  and 
purer  conceptions  toward  the  elevation  of  his  kind, 
he  has  little  right,  I  think,  to  criticise  others  for  their 
shortcomings.  You  say  well  that  one  'cannot  make 
an  oak  tree  out  of  a  gooseberry  bush.'  But  who  of 
us  is  so  keen  as  to  be  able  to  give  an  infallible  judg- 
ment on  human  character.  Who  can  say  that  such 
a  man  as  Stuart  has  not  in  him  the  germ  of  a  sturdy 
oak.  He  seems  to  us  to  be  but  a  misshapen,  scrubby 
bush.  Judging  from  what  we  know  of  him  person- 
ally, taking  that  as  an  index  to  his  character,  we  could 
well  say  'he  is  wholly  bad.'  But  what  do  we  know 
of  him  after  all?  Only  that  he  has  attempted  to 
create  an  erroneous  impression  as  to  the  value  of  the 
ore  taken  from  the  mine.  A  crime,  to  be  sure — I 
don't  belittle  that.  But  what  do  you  or  I  know  of 
his  other  characteristics.  He  may  be  a  Jekyll  and 


158  UNCLE  CARL 

Hyde  character, — I  have  met  many  such  in  these 
Western  cities, — and  while  his  criminal  instincts 
should  be  curbed  for  the  good  of  the  community,  the 
better  leanings  should  be  strengthened  to  the  end  that 
the  growth  of  the  good  may  crowd  out  or  smother 
the  evil;  and  this  also  for  the  good  of  the  com- 
munity as  well  as  for  his  own  good.  It  may  not  be 
possible  in  his  case.  I  don't  know,  neither  do  you. 
But  because  it  seems  difficult  or  impossible,  is  that 
any  reason  for  declining  to  attempt  it?  I  am  sure 
that — " 

"Good  evening,  gentlemen,"  interrupted  one  of 
two  men  who  just  then  met  our  friends.  "Good 
evening,"  was  the  response.  One  of  the  men  was 
recognized  as  the  engineer  who  had  charge  of  the 
hoist  at  the  mine;  the  other,  dressed  in  a  laborer's 
garb,  was  a  stranger. 

"My  friend  here,"  said  the  engineer,  "is  very 
anxious  to  find  Mr.  Stuart.  He  hasn't  been  up  to 
the  mine  for  a  couple  of  days  and  we  thought  that 
perhaps  one  of  you  gentlemen  could  tell  us  where 
he  is." 

"He's  out  of  town,"  said  the  chemist,  "and  the 
chances  are  that  he  won't  come  back  again.  The 
deal  is  off.  What  do  you  want  him  for,"  turning  to 
the  laborer,  "does  he  owe  you  anything?" 

"Yes,  sir,"  said  the  man,  "he  do  owe  me  a  bit. 
But  'twan't  that  that  I  wanted  to  see  him  for.  But 
how  do  you  know  that  he  won't  come  back?" 

"We  caught  him  trying  to  salt  the  ore,  and  he 
don't  dare  to  come  back  for  fear  of  prosecution,"  re- 
plied Erickson. 

"Naw!  Is  that  so?"  ejaculated  the  two  men  in  a 
breath. 

"I  was  suspicious  that  he  was  up  to  some  under- 


UNCLE  CARL  159 

handed  work,"  said  the  engineer,  "but  of  course  it 
was  no  business  of  mine  and  so  I  said  nothing." 

The  laborer  seemed  to  muse  a  moment  as  he  looked 
from  one  to  the  other  of  the  men.  Finally  he  said, 
addressing  Englewood: 

"Be  you  the  man  that  come  purty  nigh  to  bein' 
killed  in  the  shaft  t'other  day?" 

"Yes,"  said  Carl,  "and  a  pretty  narrow  shave  it 
was." 

"I  asks  your  pardin,  sir,"  resumed  the  man,  "but 
mayn't  your  name  be  Englewood?" 

"Yes,  that  is  my  name,"  answered  Carl. 

"Well,  sir,"  said  the  laborer.  "I've  heern  tell  of 
you  before.  My  kid,  he  thinks  a  sight  on  you,  and 
talks  about  you  ever'  chanct  he  gits.  I'm  his  dad. 
Deneen's  my  name,  Ralph  Deneen's  dad." 

"Ralph's  father!"  exclaimed  Carl  cordially,  and 
warmly  shaking  Deneen's  hand.  "Well  now,  I'm 
glad  to  know  you;  Ralph  is  a  bright,  faithful  little 
friend  of  mine,  and  it  is  not  difficult  to  imagine  where 
his  fidelity  springs  from." 

"I  thank  you,  sir,"  modestly  answered  Deneen. 
"But,  sir,  if  it  bean't  asking  too  much  uv  you,  can  I 
speak  to  you  privately,  sir?  I've  summat  that  I 
wanted  to  tell  to  Mr.  Stuart,  but  as  it  ain't  so  that  I 
kin  I'd  like  to  ask  your  advice,  sir." 

"Certainly,  certainly,"  said  Carl.  "We  were  just 
about  to  return  to  the  hotel.  Come  over  there  with 
us  and  I'll  give  you  all  the  time  you  want." 

"Well,"  said  the  engineer,  "I  guess  I'll  mosey 
along  home.  I  suppose,  Mr.  Erickson,  that  if  Stuart 
isn't  coming  back  there  is  no  more  use  for  me  at  the 
Pheasant,  is  there?" 

"I  think  not,"  replied  Erickson.     "It  is  not  likely 


160  UNCLE  CARL 

that  you  will  ever  see  Stuart  here  again.  His  game 
is  up  in  these  parts." 

"Well,  I  suppose  that  I  must  look  for  another  job 
then,"  said  the  engineer  as  he  turned  away.  "Good 
night,  gentlemen."  "Good  night,"  they  responded, 
and  a  few  minutes  later  entered  the  hotel,  where,  in  a 
quiet  corner  of  the  lobby,  Deneen  proceeded  to  give 
a  surprising  bit  of  news;  Erickson,  by  Englewood's 
request,  being  admitted  to  the  conference. 

On  the  day  that  the  chemist  had  visited  the  mine, 
Deneen  had  been  put  to  work  in  the  three-hundred 
level,  more  to  get  him  out  of  the  way  than  for  any 
other  purpose.  Working  in  a  desultory  fashion  at 
the  further  end  of  the  tunnel,  he  had  placed  a  blast- 
ing charge  in  a  rock  crevice,  and  lighting  the  fuse 
retired  toward  the  shaft,  arriving  just  in  time  to  wit- 
ness Jenkins's  attempted  crime.  During  the  ensuing 
excitement  his  work  was  forgotten  and  he  joined 
in  the  search  for  the  fugitive.  Returning  to  the  mine 
the  next  day  to  get  his  tools,  he  glanced  indifferently 
at  the  results  of  his  blast,  but  upon  stooping  to  pick 
up  his  implements  he  became  interested  in  a  bit  of 
rock  thrown  near  them  by  the  explosion.  It  was  of  un- 
doubted richness  in  the  precious  metal ;  and  upon  ex- 
amining more  closely  the  rended  rock,  he  discovered 
that  he  had  uncovered  a  body  of  gold-bearing  quartz 
of  great  value.  How  extensive  the  pay  streak  was 
could  only  be  told  by  further  work,  but  he  had  put  a 
few  samples  in  his  pocket  which  he  showed  to  our 
two  friends.  They  were  of  undoubted  richness. 

"Uv  course  it  belongs  to  Mr.  Stuart,"  said 
Deneen ;  "but  if  I  can't  tell  him  about  it,  I  thought 
you  two  gentlemen  mought  advise  me  what  to  do 
about  it." 

"Stuart  is  out  of  it,"  said  Erickson.  "He  tried  to 


UNCLE  CARL  161 

work  a  criminal  game  and  is  not  deserving  of  any 
benefit  arising  from  this  discovery.  Besides,  he  has 
turned  the  lease  over  to  me.  The  first  thing  to  be 
done,  however,  is  for  us  to  make  a  thorough  exami- 
nation of  this  new  lead,  and  mature  our  plans  later. 
If  it  is  at  all  promising  my  report  to  our  Eastern 
friends  will,  of  course,  be  materially  changed." 

"Erickson,"  said  Englewood,  "I  don't  agree  with 
you  at  all  so  far  as  Stuart  is  concerned.  He  tried  to 
deceive  us,  of  course,  but  he  didn't  succeed;  and 
though  you  have  his  lease  in  your  pocket  he  has  not 
signed  it  over  to  you.  He  is  legally  just  as  much  in 
possession  of  that  property  as  though  he  held  the 
paper  himself.  I  think  that  we  should,  of  course, 
examine  this  find,  and  if  it  is  a  valuable  one  should 
report  accordingly.  But  I  think,  also,  that  having 
driven  the  owner  away,  we  would  be  morally  culp- 
able if  we  did  not  make  some  effort  to  convey  the  in- 
formation to  him.  I  think  that  if  we  do  not  we  will 
be  just  as  guilty  of  theft  as  he  would  have  been  had 
his  plans  succeeded." 

"But  he  is  not  morally  entitled  to  this  information, 
even  if  he  has  a  legal  hold  on  the  mine,"  said  the 
chemist.  "He's  a  rascal  and  you  know  it.  Why  then 
exert  ourselves  to  put  money  in  a  rascal's  pocket? 
Besides,  if  he  knew  of  this  find,  he  would  insist  upon 
a  controlling  interest;  and  with  his  character  the 
men  who  put  up  the  money  to  develop  the  mine 
would  come  out  of  the  little  end  of  the  horn.  In 
another  ten  days  his  option  will  have  expired,  and 
we  can  then  make  terms  with  the  owners  that  will  be 
greatly  advantageous  to  our  friends." 

"I  don't  think,  Erickson,  that  Stuart  is  such  a 
villain  as  you  believe  him  to  be,"  responded  Carl, 
ii 


1 62  UNCLE  CARL 

"He  has  shown  us  his  weak  spot,  but  we  all  have  our 
weaknesses — " 

"Not  dishonest  ones,  though,"  interjected  Erick- 
son. 

" — and  Stuart,  while  crooked  in  this  matter,  has 
always  borne  a  good  reputation.  He  has,  I  under- 
stand, been  a  steady,  patient  plodder,  driving  sharp 
bargains,  it  is  true,  but  never  heretofore  has  he  been 
suspected  of  illegal  practices.  I  believe  that  he  would 
do  the  right  thing  here  under  the  circumstances.  His 
original  proposition  was  to  retain  a  third  interest  in 
the  mine.  I  believe  that  we  can  hold  him  to  that.  I 
believe  that  we  should  give  him  a  chance.  Besides, 
we  could  still  hold  against  him  the  charge  of  at- 
tempted fraud.  I  don't  believe  it  would  be  necessary 
to  threaten  him,  but  that  could  be  held  in  reserve  in 
case  he  should  not  want  to  do  the  square  thing." 

"Well,  the  first  thing  to  be  done  is  to  investigate," 
said  Erickson.  "Suppose  we  go  up  with  Deneen  to- 
morrow." 

"All  right,"  said  Carl.  "I'll  be  at  liberty.  And  I 
hope  we  will  find  a  big  prospect." 

The  mine  was  duly  examined  the  next  day,  and  it 
certainly  gave  promise  of  being  of  immense  value. 
Carl's  insistence  finally  won  Erickson  over,  and 
Stuart,  having  been  traced,  was  persuaded  to  meet 
the  two  men  at  their  hotel. 

The  find  having  been  made  known  to  him,  he  was, 
in  spite  of  Erickson's  prophecy,  willing  to  carry  out 
the  previous  agreement.  He  insisted,  however,  that 
Englewood  should  accept  an  interest  in  the  company 
to  be  formed. 

"Had  it  not  been  for  you,  Mr.  Englewood,"  he 
said,  "I  should  have  lost  my  all.  I  have  for  years 
worked  hard  and  honestly  tried  to  do  the  square 
thing.  Having  saved  up  a  few  thousand  dollars  I 


UNCLE  CARL  163 

invested  it  all  in  this  venture,  believing  that  the  mine 
could  be  made  to  pay.  And  while  I  did  a  wrong,  a 
criminal  thing,  in  attempting  to  deceive  you  as  to  the 
value  of  the  ore,  I  certainly  believed  that  the  outcome 
would  be  profitable ;  for  even  the  low-grade  ore  that 
was  thrown  away  on  the  dumps  contains  a  profit  if 
worked  by  modern  methods.  This  is  the  first  time 
I  have  tried  the  criminal's  path,  and  through  you 
I  have  been  saved  from  its  continuance.  For  I  was 
left  without  a  dollar  in  the  world  and  I  have  not  the 
patience  to  climb  up  again  by  honest  methods.  You 
have  given  me  new  hope  and  I  insist  that  you  share 
with  me  my  interest  in  the  mine.  There  will  be 
enough  and  more  than  enough  for  us  all." 

Englewood  turned  to  the  chemist  with  a  smile. 

"Erickson,"  he  said,  "don't  you  think  it  worth 
while  now  ?  Isn't  it  better  to  leave  a  man  where  you 
find  a  scamp?" 

"Shucks !"  growled  the  chemist.  "Maybe  you're 
right  in  this  case,  but  I  think  it  a  poor  rule  to  follow. 
I  have  no  patience  with  trickery." 

Carl,  however,  refused  to  accept  the  gift.  "I  have 
done  nothing  to  deserve  it,"  he  said.  "It  was  not  my 
discovery.  I  shouldn't  have  known  the  find  to  be 
rich  in  gold  if  I  had  stumbled  across  it.  I'm  glad 
that  I  was  able  to  help  you  to  your  own,  but  I  decline 
to  be  paid  for  doing  what  seems  to  me  to  be  the  right 
thing  to  do.  I  have  a  request  to  make,  however. 
Deneen  discovered  the  lead,  and  like  an  honest  man 
made  it  known  to  you  through  us.  He  is  a  hard 
worker,  and  poor.  I  would  think  it  right  that  he  be 
given  a  goodly  interest  in  the  company  stock." 

This  was  agreed  to,  and  as  Carl  persisted  in  his 
refusal,  the  papers  were  finally  drawn  up  in  legal 
form  by  an  attorney,  and  the  next  train  bore  the 
chemist  back  to  Chicago  to  make  his  report. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

George  Courtright  was  seated  at  his  desk  in  his 
cosy  private  office  on  Wabash  Avenue,  Chicago,  en- 
gaged with  his  legal  work,  when  his  secretary  ap- 
peared at  the  door  with  the  announcement  that  a 
young  lady  wished  to  see  him. 

"I  am  busy  now,"  said  the  lawyer;  "tell  her  to 
call  at  our  regular  hour  to-morrow." 

The  secretary  withdrew,  but  soon  reappeared,  and 
in  response  to  Courtright's  impatient  "Well !"  he 
said : 

"The  young  lady  says,  sir,  that  she  will  wait  until 
you  have  time  to  see  her.  She  says  she  comes  from 
Mr.  Englewood." 

"Englewood!"  exclaimed  Courtright.  "Show  her 
in,  show  her  in.  Any  one  from  Englewood  is  wel- 
come at  all  times." 

And  soon  our  friend's  little  protegee,  Hattie 
Braton,  was  ushered  in.  Poor  girl !  she  was  de- 
cidedly not  at  her  best.  The  severe  life  of  the  West 
had  robbed  her  of  the  fresh  bloom  of  childhood,  and 
the  hard,  tired  lines  had  not  been  softened  by  the 
days  of  travel  from  that  far  place.  Travel-stained 
and  weary,  she  timidly  approached  the  lawyer.  But 
he  felt  a  sudden  sympathy  as  he  looked  at  her  tired, 
pleading  eyes,  and  rising  to  place  a  chair  for  her, 
bade  her  be  seated. 

"My  secretary  tells  me  that  you  come  from  Mr. 
Englewood?"  he  said  interrogatively. 

"Yes,  sir,"  answered  Hattie.  "And  are  you  Mr. 
Courtright,  sir?" 

"That  is  my  name,"  he  replied,  "and  I  may  add 


UNCLE  CARL  165 

that  any  one  coming  in  Mr.  Englewood's  name  is 
welcome  here;  very  welcome." 

"Thank  you,  sir,"  said  the  girl.  "He  gave  me  this 
for  you,  and  perhaps  you  had  better  read  it  before 
you  welcome  me  too  cordially,"  and  with  a  smile,  half 
pleading,  half  embarrassed,  she  handed  a  letter  to 
Mr.  Courtright. 

"Have  you  known  Mr.  Englewood  long?"  he 
asked  as  he  cut  the  envelope. 

"Only  a  few  days,"  she  replied,  "but  he  has  been 
a  good  friend  to  me." 

"He  is  always  that  to  every  one  he  meets.  It's  a 
chronic  complaint  with  him,"  smiled  Courtright,  and 
was  soon  interested  in  the  letter.  During  its  perusal 
he  occasionally  looked  up  with  a  keen  glance  at  tfee 
girl,  who  sat  dejectedly  in  her  chair,  but  met  his 
eyes  steadily. 

Slowly  folding  the  letter  and  replacing  it  in  the  en- 
velope he  muttered,  "Just  like  him,  just  like  him. 
Always  up  to  some  such  tricks,"  and  sat  in  meditative 
silence  for  some  moments,  and  then  addressing  the 
girl  he  drew  from  her  the  outline  of  her  life  in  the 
West  and  of  Mr.  Englewood's  kindness  to  her. 
While  there  were  some  things  in  her  history  that 
superficial  critics  and  prudes  would  consider  sufficient 
cause  for  condemnation,  yet  Courtright  was  a  keen 
judge  of  human  nature;  and  Hattie's  straightforward 
answers  to  his  questions,  her  clear,  unshrinking  eyes 
that,  without  boldness,  yet  met  his  without  a  waver, 
and  above  all  that  impalpable  yet  patent  atmosphere 
of  purity  and  truth  that  clung  to  her  despite  the 
equivocal  circumstances  in  which  she  had  been  found, 
begat  in  him  a  confidence  in  her  worth. 

None  of  us  is  perfect;  all  have  faults  of  greater 
or  less  degree;  yet,  in  spite  of  faults,  it  is  possible 


1 66  UNCLE  CARL 

to  live  a  blameless  life.  Integrity,  purity  of  purpose, 
fidelity  to  principle  and  steadfast  endeavor  to  live  a 
life  of  truth  and  virtue  may  be  coupled  with  a  physi- 
cal weakness,  a  constitutional  short-sightedness,  a 
limited  intellectual  capacity  that  will  cause  the  work 
sought  to  be  accomplished  to  prove  abortive.  Just 
as,  no  matter  how  perfect  the  boilers  nor  how  steady 
the  pressure  of  steam,  if  the  machinery  to  which  it  is 
applied  is  imperfect,  the  results  accomplished  will 
fall  below  the  mark.  And  so  we  are  not  always 
blamable  because  our  purposes  fail.  The  fault  oft- 
times  lies  with  the  machine  to  which  we  apply  the 
force;  it  is  unable  to  perform  the  work  which  our 
purpose  demands. 

So  Hattie  Braton,  the  victim  of  circumstances,  hav- 
ing full  knowledge  of  and  faith  in  the  rectitude  and 
purity  of  her  real  self,  placed  overmuch  confidence  in 
the  faulty  medium  and  believed  that  she  would  have 
strength  to  accomplish  her  aims  without  sullying  her 
character  when  misfortune  threw  her  in  the  midst  of 
low  associates.  Had  she  not  been  rescued  in  time,  it 
is  not  difficult  to  surmise  what  her  end  would  have 
been.  Not  yet  was  she  old  enough,  .nor  strong 
enough,  successfully  to  combat  influences  that  have 
crushed  into  the  mire  some  of  the  world's  grandest 
intellects.  Yet  she  was  still  pure  in  heart  and  mind 
and  body,  and  with  wise  care  might  yet  become  as 
strong  in  execution  as  she  was  upright  in  purpose. 

And  so  Courtright  believed  as  he  questioned  the 
girl.  Englewood's  heart  often  blinded  his  eyes  to  the 
real  character  of  those  whom  he  would  help.  But  in 
this  case  Courtright  thought  that  the  object  was  a 
worthy  one. 

"Do  you  know  the  contents  of  this  letter,   Miss 


UNCLE  CARL  167 

Braton?"  asked  Courtright,  as  he  turned  to  his  desk 
and  began  to  put  away  his  papers. 

"No,  sir,"  Hattie  replied;  "only  that  Mr.  Engle- 
wood  told  me  that  you  would  take  charge  of  me  for 
the  present.  But,  indeed,  sir,  I  have  no  wish  to  be- 
come a  burden  upon  him  or  you.  I  only  wish  for 
the  chance  to  live  right  and  earn  my  own  way,  and 
he  said  that  you  and  your  wife  would  help  me." 

"That  we  will,  that  we  will,"  said  Courtright. 
"Mr.  Englewood's  purpose  is  that  you  should  have 
suitable  opportunity  for  the  development  of  your 
character,  believing  that  you  are  well  worth  helping. 
I  may  add  that  I,  also,  am  of  the  opinion  that  his  con- 
fidence is  not  misplaced.  However,  we  will  discuss 
ways  and  means  more  at  length  after  you  are  rested 
from  your  journey.  But  now  we  had  better,  I  think, 
go  home  to  my  wife," — touching  the  bell  as  he 
spoke, — "and  she  will  see  to  your  comfort  for  the 
present." 

"Ellis,"  as  the  secretary  appeared,  "if  Burbank 
comes  in  tell  him  that  I  have  a  telegram  from  Erick- 
son  saying  he  will  arrive  the  day  after  to-morrow. 
He  and  Styles  might  come  to  my  office,  say  Thursday 
morning,  and  hear  his  report." 

"And  now,  Miss  Braton,  if  you  will  come  with  me 
we  will  see  if  the  good  wife  can't  take  that  tired  look 
out  of  your  face.  She's  a  great  comforter,  my  wife." 

"Thank  you,  sir,"  said  Hattie.  "I  am  indeed  very 
tired.  But  don't  let  me  burden  you  or  your  wife  too 
heavily." 

"No^  danger  of  that,"  said  he.  "My  wife  just 
revels  in  burdens.  Isn't  happy  unless  she's  tossing 
several  of  them  in  the  air  as  a  juggler  does  his  balls. 
Regular  Samson,  too;  the  heavier  they  are  the  better 
she  likes  them  around." 


1 68  UNCLE  CARL 

And  so  saying  he  escorted  the  girl  to  the  elevated, 
and  they  were  soon  whirling  toward  his  suburban 
home.  And  while  the  iron  horse  hurries  them  on- 
ward we  will  introduce  the  lawyer's  wife  to  our  read- 
ers. 

Mrs.  Courtright  was  one  of  those  women  who  de- 
light in  doing  good.  She  had  little  use  for  those  glar- 
ing charity  organizations  which,  with  much  pomp 
and  glitter  of  brilliant  oratory,  pose  as  the  mecca 
for  the  distressed,  and  whose  members,  while  sub- 
scribing with  ostentatious  liberality  to  some  popular 
call,  would  turn  a  grudging  shoulder  to  misery  at  the 
doorstep  that  made  no  loud  clamor  nor  claim  to  the 
special  distinction  of  publicity.  Still  less  regard  did 
she  have  for  those  organizations,  chiefly  of  society 
women,  which  make  a  fad  of  charity  as  a  pastime, 
but  in  which  real  benevolence  has  no  abiding  place. 
She  held  no  membership  in  red-tape  organizations  of 
any  sort;  but  was,  rather,  a  believer  in  and  practicer 
of  those  little  benevolent  deeds,  those  helpful  words 
that  give  encouragement  and  strength  to  the  weary 
struggler.  Her  wish  was  to  help  the  helpless  to  help 
themselves.  Of  material  things  she  never  gave  with- 
out thought  of  its  results.  She  would  not  give  at 
random ;  she  would  not  make  a  beggar  of  a  suppliant 
but,  except  in  case  of  sickness  or  other  unavoidable 
circumstances  that  made  immediate  financial  relief 
necessary,  she  would  encourage  independence,  and 
would  quietly  secure  employment  and  encourage  the 
needy  to  do  for  self  rather  than  to  live  upon  the 
bounty  of  others. 

But  above  all  else  she  loved  to  help  the  young  in 
their  growth;  to  see  that  the  young  plants  that  were 
denied  their  full  natural  development,  because  of  ad- 
verse circumstances  or  unfortunate  environment,  had 


UNCLE  CARL  169 

placed  before  them  opportunities  for  the  unfolding 
of  their  higher  selves,  and  their  definite  establishment 
in  the  garden  of  humanity  as  living  flowers  of  purity 
and  truth.  And  so,  though  never  neglecting  her  home 
duties,  she  passed  many  hours  in  her  quiet,  cheerful 
way,  giving  comfort  and  courage  to  the  despondent 
and  assisting  to  their  feet  the  discouraged.  To  her 
own  family,  her  husband  and  three  young  children, 
her  loving  care  was  unstinted,  and  in  their  eyes  she 
was  the  embodiment  of  all  the  virtues;  while  to 
those  in  the  outer  world,  to  meet  and  greet  this  dear 
lady  was  an  event  to  lighten  the  darkest  day;  and 
in  speaking  of  her  she  was  perhaps  more  often  called 
"Mother"  Courtright,  with  a  loving  emphasis  on  that 
holiest  title,  than  the  more  formal  "Mrs.  Court- 
right."  It  was  toward  the  home  of  this  lady  that  the 
train  was  fast  carrying  the  lawyer  and  Mr.  Engle- 
wood's  protegee. 

A  short  ten  minutes'  walk  from  the  station  brought 
them  to  the  house,  a  large,  comfortable,  two-story 
dwelling,  with  a  wide  expanse  of  lawn  and  a  winding 
cement  walk  leading  from  the  gate  to  the  broad 
porch.  A  plentiful  number  of  luxuriant  maple  trees, 
trim,  well-kept  flower  beds  here  and  there,  a  gleam- 
ing statue  or  so,  hammocks  and  swings  for  the  chil- 
dren, and  at  a  little  distance  a  miniature  lake,  where 
two  stately  swans  were  gracefully  gliding  about, 
were  evidences  of  a  pleasant,  comfortable  home. 

As  they  entered  through  the  gateway  and  ad- 
vanced up  the  walk  there  was  a  sudden  rush  of  feet 
and  the  cry,  "Here's  papa  !  Here's  papa !"  and  then 
with  a  spring  into  the  outstretched  arms  a  sweet  little 
girl  of  ten  years  clung  about  the  father's  neck,  while 
a  lad  perhaps  two  years  older  grasped  an  arm  with 
an  eager,  "Hello,  papa  1"  and  then  toddling  down  the 


170  UNCLE  CARL 

walk  with  cries  of  "Da-da,  da-da  1"  came  the  belated 
baby  of  the  family  to  cling  about  the  father's  leg. 

"Well,  well,  well!  youngsters, "said  he  as  he  fondly 
kissed  them,  "I  am  afraid  you've  forgotten  some- 
thing, haven't  you?" 

"Why  no,"  answered  Mary,  "I  don't  think  I  have. 
What  is  it,  papa?" 

"I  don't  remember  that  I've  forgotten  anything 
either,"  said  Arthur. 

"I  think  that  you've  forgotten  to  keep  your  eyes 
wide  open,"  said  Courtright;  "but  Beatrice  hasn't. 
Just  look  at  her,  she  sees  we've  got  company." 
Hattie  had  withdrawn  a  few  paces,  and  the  baby  was 
toddling  across  the  walk  with  her  little  arms  stretched 
up.  Hattie  took  the  baby's  hands  in  hers,  but  the 
child  was  not  satisfied  with  this.  "Tate  me  yup  and 
tiss  me,"  she  lisped;  and  the  girl,  with  a  questioning 
look  toward  Courtright,  who  was  smiling  approval, 
quickly  raised  the  baby  in  her  arms,  where  it  snuggled 
contentedly  with  a  chubby  arm  about  her  neck. 

The  father,  with  a  loving  pride,  then  formally  in- 
troduced the  two  children  to  Miss  Braton,  and  with 
the  dignity  of  older  years  they  advanced  and  offered 
their  hands  to  her.  As  they  now  moved  toward  the 
house,  Courtright  would  have  taken  the  baby,  but 
Hattie  said: 

"Please,  if  you  don't  mind,  let  me  carry  her.  I — 
I — it  seems  strange  to  say  it,  but  I  have  never  held  a 
little  baby  before.  Oh,  how  happy  you  must  be,  sir. 
This  is  such  a  beautiful  welcome  home  to  you, 
and" — a  tear  came  very  near  the  surface — "I  never 
had  a  home." 

"Poor  child,  poor  child!"  he  responded.  "You 
have  been  cheated  out  of  the  best  of  childhood.  But 
let  us  believe  that  the  clouds  have  passed.  For 


UNCLE  CARL  171 

Englewood's  sake  now,  and  I  believe  for  your  own  as 
we  get  better  acquainted,  we  will  hope  that  this  will 
be  your  home  for  the  future.  However,  I  do  not 
make  this  as  a  promise.  The  good  wife  will  decide 
all  such  questions." 

"Oh,  papa,  I  did  forget  something  after  all,"  in- 
terrupted Arthur.  "Mama  has  gone  down  to  Mrs. 
Bullock's,  and  she  said  if  she  didn't  get  back  before 
you  came  home,  to  have  you  call  down  there  for  her." 

"In  that  case  I  think  that  I'll  go  right  down,  if 
you'll  excuse  me,  Miss  Braton ;  the  children  will  care 
for  you  for  a  little,  and  I  wish  to  see  Mr.  Bullock, 
too,  on  a  little  matter  of  business.  Now,  youngsters, 
you  take  Miss  Braton  right  into  the  house  and  make 
her  comfortable." 

"Yes,  papa,"  said  Mary,  "and  shan't  I  take  her  up 
to  Aunt  Mattie's  room?"' 

"Why,  yes,  I  think  that  is  a  good  idea.  You  poor 
child,  I'd  forgotten  that  you  might  want  to  get  rid  of 
the  travel-stains.  Arthur,  run  in  and  tell  Kate  to 
come  here."  The  boy  dashed  away  and  they  entered 
the  hall.  Kate,  a  buxom,  fresh-faced  Irish  servant, 
soon  came  in,  and  Mr.  Courtright  directed  her  to  care 
for  the  young  lady,  and  to  have  her  trunk,  which 
would  soon  come  up  from  the  station,  carried  up  to 
the  room  vacated  a  few  days  before  by  "Aunt 
Mattie,"  a  sister  of  Mrs.  Courtright.  "It  may  be 
that  we  shall  not  be  home  for  an  hour  or  so,  so  you 
can  have  a  good  clean-up  before  you  meet  my  wife. 
And,  Kate,  perhaps  you  had  better  get  Miss  Braton 
a  little  lunch,  as  dinner  will  not  be  served  for  three 
hours  yet." 

"Yis,  sor,  I  will  thot,"  said  Kate.  "This  way, 
m'am,  and  we'll  hev  ye  frishened  up  in  no  time." 

"Oh,  sir,"  said  Hattie,  as  she  turned  to  follow  the 


172  UNCLE  CARL 

servant,  "you  are  so  kind,  I  can't  thank  you.  It  seems 
so  strange  to  have  some  one  think  for  me." 

"There,  there,  child,  trot  along.  You'll  think  I'm 
as  hard-hearted  as  a  stone  when  the  wife  starts  in," 
and  tossing  the  children  in  his  arms,  with  a  kiss  for 
each,  he  walked  swiftly  away. 

"Makes  a  man  feel  like  an  idiot  to  want  to  cry," 
he  soliloquized.  "What  a  life  that  poor  girl  must 
have  led  to  be  so  grateful  for  ordinary  courtesies !" 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

On  the  day  following  the  events  narrated  in  our 
last  chapter,  Lawyer  Courtright  sat  in  his  private 
office,  enjoying  his  after-dinner  cigar,  when  Ellis  an- 
nounced that  Mr.  John  Stanhope  was  in  the  outer 
office,  and  almost  immediately  that  gentleman 
brusquely  elbowed  the  secretary  aside  and  advanced 
with  effusive  manner  and  outstretched  hand. 

"Hello,  Courtright,"  said  he,  "glad  to  see  you.  I 
was  in  the  city  on  business,  and  having  a  little  time  to 
spare  thought  I  would  call  on  you." 

"Good  afternoon,  Mr.  Stanhope,"  said  Courtright 
coldly,  ignoring  the  extended  hand.  "I  can  spare  a 
few  moments  if  you  are  here  on  business,  otherwise, 
I  must  ask  you  to  excuse  me."  Our  lawyer,  knowing 
Stanhope  to  be  an  utterly  unprincipled  man,  always 
found  it  difficult  to  meet  him  without  showing  his  con- 
tempt. Himself  a  man  of  honor,  he  scorned  the 
"sharper,"  no  matter  how  successful  he  might  be  in 
the  eyes  of  the  world;  and  a  man  who  would  stoop 
to  dishonor  met  with  scant  courtesy  from  him. 

"Oh,  I  have  no  special  business,"  said  Stanhope, 
"only  as  you  were  somewhat  interested  in  Engle- 
wood's  trusteeship  of  the  Cramer  estate  I  thought 
that  I  would  let  you  know  how  things  are  going." 

"Nothing  new,  is  there?"  asked  Courtright.  "I 
wrote  you  requesting  postponement  for  a  short  time 
until  Englewood's  return.  He  will  be  here  in  a  few 
days." 

"Then  you  haven't  heard  of  his  accident?"  asked 
Stanhope. 

"Accident!    What  accident?" 


i74  UNCLE  CARL 

"Why,  in  the  mine.  I  have  had  word  that  he  fell 
down  a  mine  shaft.  Shocking  thing!  Fell  some 
noo  feet,  and  of  course  was  killed." 

"You  lie,  you  scoundrel!  What  low  scheme  are 
you  at  now!"  exclaimed  the  startled  lawyer. 

"Rather  hard  words,  Mr.  Courtright,"  said  Stan- 
hope with  a  sneer.  "But  your  courtesy  was  ever  of 
the  hard  sort.  I  do  not  lie,  but  have  received  a  tele- 
gram from  my  agent  in  the  West,  giving  me  the  in- 
formation. I  think  I  have  it  about  me  now,"  and 
searching  through  his  pockets  the  man  finally  pro- 
duced the  telegram  Jenkins  had  sent  him. 

Courtright  read  it  with  unbelieving  eyes.  Engle- 
wood  dead !  It  could  not  be  possible !  that  great  lov- 
ing heart  stilled!  That  earnest,  faithful  friend! 
No,  no!  It  was  impossible.  Courtright  sank  back 
in  his  chair.  "Has  this  report  been  verified?"  he 
asked. 

"My  agent,  Jenkins,  was  at  Rock  Gulch  at  the 
time,"  said  Stanhope,  "on  business  connected  with 
some  mining  interests,  and  happened  to  be  an  eye- 
witness of  the  accident.  He  has  since  returned  East, 
and  was  in  my  office  two  days  ago.  He  gave  me 
but  meagre  particulars,  as  he  was  on  his  way  to  catch 
his  train  when  the  accident  occurred.  However,  this 
is  not  what  I  came  for.  It  is  my  desire  to  close  up 
this  Cramer  estate  as  soon  as  possible.  The  proofs 
of  the  daughter's  death  are  expected  daily,  and  then 
I  think  that  there  is  nothing  in  the  way  of  settling 
the  property.  It  may  not  be  known  to  you,  Mr. 
Courtright,  that  I  am  the  heir-at-law  to  this  prop- 
erty." 

"You  heir-at-law !"  exclaimed  Courtright.  "I  had 
heard  something  about  your  being  related,  but  I — 
I —  Oh,  God!  Englewood  dead!  poor  old 


UNCLE  CARL  175 

friend!"  and  rising  abruptly,  Courtright  grasped  his 
hat  and  started  for  the  door.  "Ellis,"  he  snouted, 
"show  Stanhope  out  and  lock  up;  I  am  going  out. 
Ellis,  our  old  friend  Englewood  is  dead.  Stanhope, 
I  wish  you  would  call  in  the  morning.  I  am  not  in 
condition  now  to  talk  business.  Englewood!  poor 
old  Englewood!"  he  almost  sobbed, — strong  man 
though  he  was, — and  in  a  frenzy  of  grief  the  lawyer 
made  his  way  to  the  street.  For  hours  he  walked  the 
pavement.  Of  all  the  men  he  had  met  in  a  busy  life, 
none  had  appealed  to  him  as  had  Englewood,  and  a 
strong,  earnest  friendship  had  sprung  up  between 
them.  The  lawyer  loved  him  as  a  brother,  aye,  as 
more  than  a  brother;  it  seemed  as  if  the  dead  man 
had  been  part  of  his  life  itself.  Never  had  Court- 
right  so  realized  the  place  Carl  occupied  in  his  heart. 
How  often  when  tempted  to  adopt  some  little  legal 
subterfuge  in  the  prosecution  of  his  business,  had  he 
seen  with  his  conscience  Englewood's  sad  eyes,  and 
had  turned  away  from  temptation  for  the  sake  of  the 
respect  he  bore  him.  How  many  times  when  he  had 
coldly  passed  some  unfortunate  suppliant,  had  he 
turned  back  with  the  half-formed  feeling,  rather  than 
thought,  of  what  his  friend's  course  would  have  been 
in  such  a  case.  How  often  had  he  checked  unworthy 
thought  and  selfish  action  in  himself,  that  he  might 
feel  himself  more  worthy  of  the  friendship  of  this 
pure,  honest  man;  and  now  to  feel  that  it  was  all 
over !  And  so  the  lawyer  walked  and  mourned  dur- 
ing the  afternoon.  It  never  occurred  to  him  to  doubt 
the  information  Stanhope  had  given  him.  The  tele- 
gram was  positive  and  Stanhope  said  he  had  verified 
it.  The  shock  had  been  so  sudden  and  his  grief  so 
keen  that,  trained  lawyer  though  he  was,  he  could 
not  yet  order  his  thoughts  to  a  cold  contemplation  of 


176  UNCLE  CARL 

the  circumstances.     His  heart  and  mind  were  simply 
overcharged  with  a  great  grief  for  his  friend. 

Late  in  the  afternoon  his  aimless  wandering 
brought  him  near  the  Grand  Central  Station ;  and  he 
stood  for  some  moments,  seeing  but  not  observing 
the  crowd  of  passers-by,  when  a  man  who  was  pass- 
ing with  a  traveling-case  in  each  hand  paused,  and 
then  dropping  his  burdens  on  the  pavement,  extended 
his  hand  to  the  lawyer. 

"Hello,  Mr.  Courtright,"  he  said,  "what  are  you 
mooning  here  for  in  broad  daylight?  You  look  as  if 
you  had  lost  your  best  friend." 

"Oh,  it  is  you,  Erickson.  Yes,  I  have  lost  my  best 
friend.  The  best  friend  a  man  ever  had.  Carl 
Englewood  is  dead.  Poor  Carl !" 

"Englewood  dead!"  exclaimed  Erickson.  "You 
don't  mean  it.  How  did  it  happen?  Why,  I  left 
him  sound  and  well  only  three  days  ago." 

"Why,  of  course,"  said  the  lawyer,  not  realizing, 
if  indeed  he  had  heard  Mr.  Erickson's  closing  state- 
ment. "You  must  have  been  there  at  the  time  and 
probably  know  all  about  it.  Tell  me  how  it  hap- 
pened. I  have  been  so  stunned  that  I  haven't  even 
inquired  for  particulars." 

"How  what  happened?"  asked  Erickson.  "I  don't 
know  what  you  are  driving  at.  When  did  Mr. 
Englewood  die?" 

"Why,  I  don't  know,"  replied  Courtright.  "Mr. 
Stanhope,  a  fellow-trustee  of  Englewood's,  was  in  my 
office  just  after  dinner  and  showed  me  a  telegram 
from  a  Mr.  Jenkins,  saying  that  my  dear  old  friend 
had  fallen  down  a  shaft  and  been  killed.  He  saw  the 
accident  himself." 

"Telegram  from  who?  Jenkins?"  exclaimed  the 
chemist. 


UNCLE  CARL  177 

"Yes,  I  believe  that  was  the  name.  And  he  fol- 
lowed the  telegram,  and  was  in  Stanhope's  office  two 
days  ago  and  verified  it,"  said  the  lawyer. 

"See  here,  Mr.  Courtright,"  said  Erickson,  "either 
you  have  misunderstood  or  there  is  something 
crooked  in  this.  If  this  man  Jenkins  was  in  Stan- 
hope's office  two  days  ago  and  was  himself  a  witness 
of  the  accident,  it  could  not  have  occurred  later  than 
five  days  ago.  I  myself  saw  Englewood  three  days 
ago  in  good  health  and  he  is  coming  East  in  a  few 
days.  There  is  a  mistake  somewhere.  Your  friend 
is  no  more  dead  that  I  am." 

"Englewood  not  dead!  Thank  God!  Thank 
God!"  almost  shouted  Courtright,  and  then  he  sank 
back  trembling  against  the  railing  near  where  he 
stood.  "That's  almost  too  good  to  be  true,"  he  said 
more  collectedly.  "Prove  it  and  you  will  have  lifted 
the  greatest  weight  from  my  heart  that  it  has  ever 
carried." 

"I  think  that  I  see  where  the  crookedness  lies," 
said  Erickson.  "There  was  an  accident  ten  days  ago, 
but  Englewood  was  not  hurt,  and  a  man  named  Jen- 
kins, who  was  at  the  bottom  of  it,  left  too  suddenly 
to  know  the  results.  But  this  is  no  place  for  explana- 
tions." 

"Come  to  my  office,  come  to  my  office,  quick! 
Erickson,  you  have  made  me  ten  years  younger. 
Here  I've  been  mooning  about  the  streets  all  the 
afternoon,  and  nothing  was  the  matter  after  all. 
But,  hurry  up,  I  must  hear  all  about  it.  Englewood 
alive ;  the  old  joker,  to  fool  me  so !  I'll  fix  him  when 
I  see  him.  Come  on,  come  on!"  and  about  as  near 
hysterics  as  a  strong  man  can  become  with  such  a 
sudden  revulsion  from  deep  grief  to  great  joy, 


178  UNCLE  CARL 

Courtright  grasped  Erickson's  arm  and  hurried  him 
on  to  his  office,  some  six  or  eight  blocks  distant,  chat- 
tering the  while  like  a  school-girl  out  for  a  lark. 
The  staid,  dignified  lawyer  was  so  transported  with 
joy  that  had  his  business  associates  met  him  they 
would  have  thought  him  unbalanced.  However, 
reaching  his  office,  now  deserted,  he  was  soon  made 
acquainted  with  the  facts  at  Erickson's  disposal. 
Suspicion  of  Stanhope  was  a  necessary  factor  in  the 
discussion  which  followed,  and  it  was  agreed  that 
Englewood's  escape  and  his  arrival  in  Chicago  should 
be  kept  secret  from  him  for  the  present,  in  order  that 
they  might  fathom  his  schemes  if  possible.  There 
could  be  little  doubt,  they  thought,  that  Jenkins  and 
Stanhope  were  in  collusion,  and  that  immediately 
after  the  attempted  murder  Jenkins  had  returned  to 
his  master  to  report.  At  last,  having  made  arrange- 
ments for  the  morrow's  meeting  and  the  report  on  the 
mining  investigation,  the  two  men  parted;  and  with 
a  lightened  heart  Courtright  boarded  the  train  for 
home. 

The  following  morning  Stanhope  arrived  at  Mr. 
Courtright's  office  at  about  ten  o'clock,  and  found 
him  looking  tired  and  sad.  For  it  was  in  the  law- 
yer's plan  to  seem  to  believe  in  and  grieve  over  the 
death  of  his  friend.  He  therefore  assumed  a  low- 
spiritedness  that  he  was  far  indeed  from  feeling. 
Whether  or  not  Stanhope  had  had  any  hand  in  the  at- 
tempted crime,  Courtright  believed  that  he  was  ready 
to  take  advantage  of  any  opportunity  to  further  his 
own  interests,  and  he  had  a  decided  suspicion  that  he 
was  in  some  way  endeavoring  to  profit  by  Carl's  ab- 
sence. He  questioned  Stanhope  closely  in  regard  to 
the  accident,  but  the  latter  had  little  information  to 
give.  Indeed,  Jenkins  had  not  given  him  the  full 


UNCLE  CARL  179 

particulars,  and  he  had  no  suspicion  of  the  fell  part 
his  henchman  had  taken  in  the  tragedy.  Stanhope 
himself,  be  it  said,  fully  believed  his  report  of  Engle- 
wood's  fatal  accident. 

"Who  is  this  Jenkins,"  asked  Courtright;  "any 
one  I  know?" 

"No,  I  think  not,"  replied  Stanhope.  "I  have  em- 
ployed him  off  and  on  for  some  years,  but  I  hardly 
think  that  you  know  him.  He  was  at  the  mine  where 
the  accident  occurred  to  look  after  some  interests  of 
mine  involving  a  sale  of  the  property." 

"I  didn't  know  that  you  were  interested  in  mining 
investments,"  said  Courtright.  "Is  it  a  developed 
mine  or  only  a  prospect?" 

"Well,  both,"  said  Stanhope.  "It  is  a  mine  that 
was  supposed  to  have  been  worked  out.  But  by  ad- 
vice of  a  friend  of  mine  I  became  interested  in  a  lease 
of  it,  and  upon  investigation  some  new  and  promising 
'prospects'  were  discovered.  Not  having  a  sufficient 
capital  to  put  it  on  a  paying  basis,  Stuart  and  I  have 
interested  some  Eastern  capital  in  the  venture.  And 
it  was,  I  believe,  while  visiting  the  mine  in  company 
of  Erickson,  the  chemist — whom,  by  the  way,  I  be- 
lieve you  know — that  the  accident  occurred." 

"Yes,  Erickson  and  I  are  old  friends,"  said  Court- 
right.  "I  knew  he  had  gone  West  but  did  not  know 
it  was  on  your  business." 

"Oh,  it  wasn't  on  my  business,"  said  Stanhope. 
"The  capitalists  whom  we  have  interested  in  the  mine 
sent  him  out  there  to  investigate."  Evidently  Stan- 
hope was  unaware  that  Courtright  was  interested  in 
this  very  syndicate.  "They  are  wary,  you  know,  as 
they  should  be;  but  we  have  a  valuable  property  and 
are  not  afraid  of  the  investigation." 

"Well!    Erickson  is  honest  and  will  give  a  proper 


i8o  UNCLE  CARL 

report,  I  do  not  doubt.  By  the  way,  did  you  know 
that  he  is  back?" 

"No,"  said  Stanhope,  "though  I  expected  him  be- 
fore long.  When  did  he  get  in?" 

"Yesterday,  I  believe,"  said  the  lawyer.  "I  had  a 
telephone  from  him  this  morning  saying  he  would  be 
over  to-day  on  some  business  or  other.  But  now 
about  this  Cramer  estate.  Of  course,  I  have  no  legal 
status  in  the  proceedings  save  as  Englewood's  ad- 
viser. But  may  I  not  urge  you  to  be  not  too  precipi- 
tate in  closing  this  matter  up?" 

"What's  the  use  of  delay,"  said  Stanhope.  "I  am 
the  only  heir  now  that  the  girl  is  dead,  and  I  can 
prove  up  everything.  To  tell  the  truth,  this  money 
would  be  mighty  handy  just  now,  and  I  see  nothing 
to  be  gained  by  delay.  The  case  is  on  call  for  the 
1 4th,  just  a  week  from  to-day." 

"Well;  I'll  try  to  be  on  hand  to  look  after  my 
friend's  interests,"  said  the  lawyer.  "But  really  I 
don't  like  to  see  such  things  rushed." 

"I  suppose  not,"  said  Courtright  with  a  covert 
sneer.  "You  lawyers  are  always  on  the  lookout  for 
fees." 

"Yes,  and  for  scamps  too,"  retorted  the  lawyer. 
Stanhope  scowled  and  would  have  replied  with  some 
heat,  but  that  the  door  opened  and  Erickson,  the 
chemist,  entered  hastily. 

"Ah,  Courtright;  engaged,  are  you?"  he  said. 
"Pardon  me,  I'll  withdraw.  I  thought  that  you  were 
alone." 

"Stay,"  said  the  lawyer;  "we  are  about  through, 
and  I  think  that  Mr.  Stanhope  here  would  like  to 
meet  you.  Mr.  Erickson,  Mr.  Stanhope;  the  gentle- 
man of  whom  we  were  speaking  a  few  moments 
since." 


UNCLE  CARL  181 

"Glad  to  know  you,  Mr.  Erickson,"  said  Stanhope, 
extending  his  hand,  which  the  chemist  barely  touched 
with  his  own.  "I  trust  that  you  found  the  prospect 
you  went  to  investigate  all  that  it  was  represented  to 
be.  I  am  somewhat  interested  in  that  deal  in  a  finan- 
cial way." 

"Oh,  you  are,  are  you?"  said  Erickson  suspiciously. 
"I  thought  Stuart  was  engineering  it  alone.  How- 
ever, I  haven't  made  a  full  assay  of  the  samples  yet. 
I  will  say,  though,  that  I  think  the  mine  is  probably 
good." 

"I  have  no  doubt  of  it,"  said  Stanhope,  gleefully 
rubbing  his  hands.  "We  are  expecting  to  do  well 
with  that  property.  Oh !  by  the  way,  you  must  have 
been  there  when  Englewood  met  with  that  sad  acci- 
dent." 

"Good  Lord,  yes!"  said  Erickson.  "Don't  speak 
of  it;  it  was  an  awful  thing." 

"Won't  you  tell  us  the  particulars,"  asked  Stan- 
hope. "I  know  but  little  beyond  the  bare  fact  of  his 
death." 

"Excuse  me,"  said  the  chemist  with  apparent  aver- 
sion. "I  don't  like  to  think  of  it.  Englewood  was 
such  a  decent  fellow  too." 

"He  was  really  killed,  then?"  asked  Courtright 
wistfully.  "I  had  hoped  there  was  some  mistake." 

"Killed!"  said  Erickson.  "Well,  he  was  said  to 
have  fallen  noo  feet  straight  down.  Such  a  fall  as 
that  would  kill  a  man  before  he  struck  bottom.  I 
didn't  see  the  body  brought  to  the  surface.  It  was 
awful.  Change  the  subject." 

"I  don't  wonder  that  you  are  averse  to  discussing 
it,"  said  Stanhope.  "When  will  you  make  your  re- 
port on  the  mine  to  the  syndicate?" 

"Oh,  some  time  soon.     No  hurry,"  replied  Erick- 


1 82  UNCLE  CARL 

son.  "And  now  if  I  may,  Courtright,  I'd  like  to  talk 
a  little  business  with  you." 

"Very  well,"  said  the  lawyer.  "Mr.  Stanhope  will 
excuse  us,  I  am  sure.  Oh,  going,  are  you?"  as  Stan- 
hope rose  to  depart.  "Well,  I'll  try  to  be  on  hand 
on  the  1 4th.  Good  day  to  you." 

As  the  door  closed  on  the  retreating  form  Mr. 
Gourtright  clenched  his  fist.  "Of  all  detestable  ver- 
min!" he  exclaimed.  "He  bears  the  stamp  of  a 
sneaking  scoundrel  in  every  feature.  But  we'll  fath- 
om his  schemes  yet  and  frustrate  them  too!"  and 
turning  to  Erickson  he  imparted  to  him  the  details 
of  the  interview. 

"Oh,  he's  a  rascal  all  right,"  said  the  chemist. 
"That's  plain  enough;  but  he'll  have  to  get  up  be- 
fore he  goes  to  bed  to  get  ahead  of  us,  now  that  we 
know  him." 

The  syndicate  of  capitalists  held  a  meeting  during 
the  day,  and  after  hearing  Erickson's  report,  closed 
the  mining  deal  in  accordance  with  the  plans  that 
Englewood,  Stuart,  and  he  had  formulated  in  Rock 
Gulch. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

When  Carl  Englewood  stepped  from  the  train  at 
the  Chicago  station  there  was  no  one  to  welcome  him. 
He  was  a  stranger  in  the  city,  having  been  there  but 
seldom,  and  only  on  brief  business  trips;  and  he  felt 
lonely  as  he  witnessed  the  effusive  greetings  and 
happy  laughter  on  all  sides.  For  it  made  him  think 
of  his  own  isolated  life.  He — essentially  a  home- 
man  by  nature — was  without  a  home.  In  all  the 
broad  land  there  were  no  homes  to  which  he  could 
feel  that  he  was  a  needed  inmate.  Many  acquaint- 
ances, many  so-called  friends  there  were  in  a  score 
of  cities,  who  would  be  glad  to  welcome  him  as  a 
visitor;  who  respected  and  admired  him  as  a  man. 
But  in  none  of  their  homes  was  he  a  necessary  factor. 
To  enter  any  one  of  them  and  witness  the  hundred 
little  evidences  of  private  duties  and  loving  care,  but 
emphasized  his  own  lonely  condition.  And  to-day, 
tired  after  his  long  journey,  he  felt  especially  the 
great  incompleteness  of  his  life.  "Oh!"  he  muttered, 
"if  Irene  and  I  only  had  our  little  home  now.  But, 
not  yet,  not  yet,  will  the  gate  open  for  me."  He 
moved  on  with  the  throng,  and  at  the  street  exit  from 
the  station  was  met  by  Mr.  Courtright,  who  was 
hurrying  thither,  having  been  delayed  by  an  import- 
unate client  at  his  office. 

A  friend  met  a  friend.  Words  were  not  necessary 
as  their  hands  met  in  strong  pressure,  and  a  tear 
glistened  in  Courtright's  eyes  as  he  thus  greeted  the 
man  whom  he  loved  so  well;  and  Carl  felt  com- 
forted, for  in  all  the  world  there  was  none  whom  he 
held  in  higher  esteem  than  this  lawyer  friend. 


1 84  UNCLE  CARL 

"I  suppose  you  are  tired  after  your  long  trip,  and 
would  like  a  good  clean  up  the  first  thing,  wouldn't 
you?"  interrogated  Courtright,  as  they  walked  down 
the  street. 

"Yes,  my  dear  old  friend,  I  am  somewhat  weary," 
replied  Englewood.  "I  think  that  I'll  go  to  the  ho- 
tel at  once  and  get  rid  of  a  few  pounds  of  coal  dust." 

"Not  much  you  won't,"  said  the  lawyer.  "You'll 
get  on  the  train  and  come  home  with  me.  Now, 
shut  up !  I  won't  take  'no'  from  you  in  this  case. 
Wife  and  I  have  been  planning  for  you  for  days  past. 
We've  got  a  room  all  ready  for  you,  and  our  home 
is  your  home  for  just  as  long  as  we  can  keep  you 
in  it." 

"Thank  you,  old  fellow,"  replied  Carl;  "but  I 
don't  want  to  burden  you  or  your  good  wife,  and  I 
think  I  had  better — " 

"I  told  you  to  stop  your  clatter,"  interrupted 
Courtright.  "You're  going  home  with  me.  I  have 
put  aside  all  business  affairs  for  the  rest  of  the  day, 
and  you  will  have  ample  time  to  clean  up,  and  get 
a  little  rest  if  you  want  to,  before  you  meet  my  fam- 
ily." 

"But  really,"  said  Carl  reluctantly,  "I  would  like 
to  clean  up  first,  and  then  I'll  go  up  this  evening  and 
call  on  Mrs.  Courtright." 

"Do  you  know  what  I  heard  when  I  left  the  house 
this  morning?"  asked  Courtright. 

"Well,  as  I  was  several  hundred  miles  away  at 
the  time  and  have  but  just  arrived,  I  have  had  no  op- 
portunity of  learning  just  what  you  did  hear  as  you 
left  the  house  this  morning,"  said  Carl. 

"That's  funny  too,"  said  the  lawyer.  "I  should 
have  thought  your  ears  would  have  tingled  if  you  had 
been  in  China.  It  was  Mary  who  said,  'Papa,  you 


UNCLE  CARL  185 

bring  dear  old  Uncle  Carl  home  just  as  quick  as  you 
can,  cause  he's  my  bestest  chum.'  And  the  wife 
said,  'We'll  have  everything  ready  and  I'll  be  so  dis- 
appointed if  he  doesn't  come,'  and  then  little  Beatrice 
toddled  up  with,  'I  want  to  tiss  Uncle  Carl.'  Now 
then,  with  all  of  those  ladies  waiting  for  you,  what 
have  you  to  say?" 

"The  youngsters  win,  of  course,"  said  Carl.  "Dear 
little  tots.  You  know,  you  rascal,  that  I  can't  re- 
sist the  children." 

And  soon  the  two  friends  were  whirled  off  to 
the  lawyer's  home,  where  Englewood  was  immedi- 
ately conducted  to  a  large,  pleasant  room,  and  left  to 
rest  and  remove  the  stains  of  travel. 

"Supper  will  not  be  ready  for  two  or  three  hours 
yet,  so  take  your  time,"  said  Courtright.  "The  wife 
and  children  are  out  for  the  afternoon,  so  that  every- 
thing will  be  quiet  and  you  can  have  a  nap  if  you 
want  to." 

"Always  thoughtful,  aren't  you,"  said  Carl. 

"Nop!  that's  the  wife's  part,"  retorted  Court- 
right.  "I'd  not  be  such  a  chump  as  to  do  anything 
for  such  a  man  as — " 

"Thanks,"  interrupted  Carl.  "You  can  finish  that 
dig  some  other  time.  But  see  here,  I  don't  want  to 
snooze  before  bedtime,  for  I  had  a  good  sleep  last 
night.  But  I  do  want  to  clean  up  and  then  I  want 
to  learn  about  things  here.  Suppose  I  join  you  in  an 
hour  and  we  will  have  our  talk  out  before  supper." 

"All  right,  come  out  on  the  lawn  when  you  are 
ready.  I'll  probably  be  riding  the  swans  around  the 
lake." 

Two  hours  later  the  two  friends  sat  on  a  bench 
near  the  little  body  of  water.  It  was  a  warm,  bright 
day,  the  air  fragrant  with  the  odor  of  many  flowers. 


1 86  UNCLE  CARL 

A  soft  breeze  fanned  them  as  they  sat  watching  the 
graceful  swans  moving  with  stately  dignity  through 
the  water.  For  an  hour  they  had  been  talking.  Ex- 
planations were  given  and  received,  and,  as  Court- 
right  facetiously  remarked,  "Now  both  of  us  know 
as  much  as  each  other." 

When  Courtright  told  of  the  visit  of  Stanhope  to 
his  office  and  of  the  telegram  from  Jenkins,  Engle- 
wood  suddenly  interrupted  him — 

"That's  it!"  he  exclaimed;  "I  knew  I  had  seen 
him  before." 

"Seen  whom  before?"  asked  Courtright. 

"Jenkins,"  said  Carl.  "When  he  turned  around 
when  I  overtook  him  in  the  tunnel,  there  was  some- 
thing strangely  familiar  about  his  face,  but  I  couldn't 
recall  where  I  had  seen  him.  But  when  you  men- 
tioned Stanhope  it  flashed  upon  me.  You  remember 
the  man  who  was  assaulting  a  girl  in  the  woods  when 
we  were  driving  down  to  the  lake  to  meet  Stanhope 
two  years  ago  in  Kaloma?" 

"Yes,"  answered  the  lawyer. 

"Well !     That  man  and  Jenkins  are  the  same." 

"You  don't  tell  me!"  said  Courtright.  "H'm, 
light  keeps  coming.  I  rather  suspected  at  the  time 
that  Stanhope  and  the  fellow  had  something  in  com- 
mon." 

"Do  you  know,"  said  Englewood,  "that  rather 
accounts  for  Jenkins's  attempt  in  the  shaft  in  a  pleas- 
anter  manner  than  to  think  that  Stanhope  had  any- 
thing to  do  with  it.  You  remember  that  I  treated 
the  fellow  rather  roughly  in  the  woods." 

"Should  say  I  did.  You  knocked  a  hole  ten  feet 
deep  in  the  earth  when  you  threw  him  down,"  exag- 
gerated the  lawyer. 

"Well,    naturally   he   didn't   remember   me    very 


UNCLE  CARL  187 

kindly,"  resumed  Carl;  "and  when  I  interrupted  him 
in  another  bit  of  criminality  he  thought  I  was  doing 
rather  more  than  my  share  of  the  frustration  act,  and 
his  temper  got  the  better  of  him;  so  that  when  the 
opportunity  presented  itself  to  get  even  he  took  ad- 
vantage of  it  on  the  spur  of  the  moment.  I  believe 
it  was  more  a  matter  of  anger  than  of  deliberate  pur- 
pose." 

"Maybe  so,  maybe  so,  but  that  doesn't  clear  Stan- 
hope. His  associations  with  such  a  man  could  hardly 
have  been  for  good  purposes,"  said  Courtright. 

"Oh,  we  must  watch  him,"  replied  Carl;  "but  I 
don't  want  to  believe  any  more  evil  of  him  than  I 
have  to.  And  now  tell  me  about  the  little  girl  I  sent 
to  you  from  the  West." 

"That  little  girl  is  a  gem,  Englewood,"  said  the 
lawyer.  "I  know  only  in  a  general  way  in  regard 
to  her  surroundings  out  there,  for  I  have  not  asked 
her  for  the  details.  I  don't  care  for  the  details,  in 
fact,  unless  it  is  necessary  for  me  to  know  them. 
Whatever  they  were,  she  has  come  through  with  one 
of  the  sweetest,  purest  of  characters;  though  she's 
foolish  enough  to  think  that  a  rascal  named  Engle- 
wood whom  she  met  in  Rock  Gulch  is  the  noblest  man 
on  earth." 

"Enough  of  that,"  said  Englewood.  "I  may  be 
entitled  to  her  gratitude  in  moderation,  but  it  isn't  for 
you  to  speak  of.  Her  life  will  show  it  if  she  is  as 
worthy  as  I  thought  her.  It  is  perhaps  as  well  for 
you  to  know  just  where  and  how  I  found  her" ;  and 
Englewood  here  gave  in  detail  the  environments  and 
struggles  of  Miss  Braton  so  far  as  he  knew  them. 
"And  now,"  he  concluded;  "if  she  proves  worthy,  I 
want  with  your  help  to  see  that  she  has  the  oppor- 
tunities for  growth  according  to  her  ability.  Her 


1 88  UNCLE  CARL 

education  should  be  completed,  but  so  far  as  possible 
I  want  her  to  be  independent." 

"I'll  help  her  in  every  way  I  can,"  said  Court- 
right.  "Not  only  because  you  ask  it,  but  for  her  own 
sake  as  well.  I  don't  think  that  you  can  do  much  for 
her,  however." 

"Why  not?"  asked  Carl.  "I  can  conceive  that 
she  may  be  too  proud  to  receive  charity,  but  surely 
she  can  be  persuaded  to  take  as  a  loan  the  means  nec- 
essary to  advance  her  in  life." 

"It  isn't  that,"  said  Courtright,  "it's  my  wife. 
She  has  taken  to  Hattie  as  a  mother  to  her  child. 
And  my  wife  is  accustomed  to  having  her  own  way. 
In  this  case  she'll  want  to  do  it  all." 

"Oh,  well !  I'll  have  to  fight  your  wife  then,"  said 
Carl.  "I,  also,  am  in  the  habit  of  having  my  own 
way,  and  so  far  at  least  as  finances  are  concerned,  I 
claim  the  right  to  bear  whatever  expense  is  necessary. 
However,  we'll  settle  that  at  a  conclave  later." 

"I  wish  you  could  have  seen  the  meeting  between 
the  girl  and  my  wife,"  mused  Courtright.  "Only  the 
children  were  at  home  when  I  arrived  with  Hattie, 
the  mother  having  gone  to  one  of  the  neighbors.  So 
I  left  the  young  lady  in  the  care  of  the  youngsters 
while  I  went  after  her.  It  was  a  couple  of  hours 
later  when  we  entered  the  home  and  paused  in  the 
doorway  of  the  sitting-room  to  observe  as  pretty  a 
picture  as  one  would  care  to  see.  The  children  had 
taken  to  her  at  once — and  where  the  affection  of 
children  goes  with  spontaneity  you  may  be  sure  real 
worth  abides.  When  we  entered,  the  girl  was  seated 
in  a  big  rocker  with  our  baby  in  her  arms,  and  Mary 
and  Arthur  were  hanging  over  the  arms  of  the  chair. 
She  was  just  finishing  a  little  nursery  jingle,  and  as 
we  waited  little  Beatrice  threw  her  arms  about  the 


UNCLE  CARL  189 

girl's  neck.  'I  love  oo,  auntie;  tiss  me  twick,'  she 
lisped.  And  then  the  girl  looked  up  and  saw  us. 
Putting  the  child  down  gently  she  rose,  and  half- 
embarassed,  yet  with  frank  directness  she  said: 

"  'I  ask  your  pardon  if  I  have  taken  a  liberty,  but 
I  have  never  had  little  folks  with  me  since  I  can  re- 
member, and  one  cannot  help  loving  your  children.' 

"My  wife  stood  a  moment  longer,  and  then  ad- 
vancing quickly,  folded  her  arms  about  the  girl. 

"  'You  poor  child,'  she  said,  'just  rest  here;  for 
you  shall  never  want  for  a  mother  or  children  again.' 

"  'Oh !'  said  the  girl, 'may  I  really  call  you  mother? 
Mother!  Thank  God!'  and  then  they  both  stood 
there  crying  on  each  other's  shoulders.  About  that 
time  I  had  business  elsewhere.  It  was  just  a  true 
feminine  heart  meeting  and  recognizing  a  true  fem- 
inine heart,  and  I  tell  you  you'll  have  a  hard  job  sep- 
arating them." 

"I  have  no  wish  to  separate  them,"  said  Engle- 
wood,  wiping  his  eyes.  "But  I  am  sure  that  your 
wife's  true  heart  will  never  forbid  me  the  pleasure  of 
continuing  the  work  I  have  begun." 

"You'll  have  to  settle  that  between  you,"  said  the 
lawyer. 

It  may  seem  to  the  reader,  when  we  speak  of  the 
readily  moistened  eyes  of  the  two  friends,  that  it  in- 
dicates a  weakness  in  the  character  of  each.  But 
think  a  moment,  and  we  believe  that  you  will 
consider  it  an  evidence  of  strength  rather  than  weak- 
ness— strength  of  sympathy,  of  love,  and  appreciation 
of  the  beauty  and  truth  in  human  character.  Tears  of 
joy  or  of  sorrow  for  another  no  strong  man  need  be 
ashamed  of,  for  they  but  show  that  a  true  heart  beats 
in  his  bosom.  In  the  sterner  duties  of  life,  we  appre- 
hend, indeed  we  know,  that  both  Englewood  and 


1 90  UNCLE  CARL 

Courtright  would  meet  their  duties,  face  danger,  en- 
dure distress,  and  render  justice  or  mercy  according 
to  their  knowledge,  with  unwavering  determination 
and  without  the  tremor  of  a  muscle.  But  when 
placed  amid  quiet  scenes,  with  the  sounds  of  life's 
severer  battles  subdued  by  the  distance  of  time  and 
space,  a  more  sympathetic,  tender  pair  of  hearts 
could  not  be  found  in  the  universe. 

As  the  two  men  were  conversing  further  on  topics 
of  mutual  interest  they  were  suddenly  interrupted 
by  the  clamor  of  the  children,  who,  seeing  them  from 
a  distance,  scampered  across  the  lawn  with  joyful 
cries  of  "There's  papa,  there's  papa!"  and  plunged 
into  his  arms.  Little  Beatrice,  outstripped  by  the 
older  and  more  impulsive  children,  bringing  up  the 
rear,  as  usual  was  the  first  to  notice  the  visitor.  She 
at  once  toddled  up  to  him,  and  looking  him  gravely 
in  the  face,  said: 

"Iss  oo  Uncle  Tarl?" 

"Of  course  I  am;  and  you  are  little  Beatrice,  aren't 
you?"  said  Carl. 

"Ess  I  am.  Why  don't  you  tate  me  up  and  tiss 
me?" 

And  an  instant  later  she  was  snuggled  closely  in 
the  arms  of  the  lonely  bachelor.  The  other  children, 
however,  were  soon  clamoring  for  place,  and  Court- 
right,  looking  on  as  Englewood  greedily  took  them 
all  on  his  knees,  smiled  sympathetically.  "Poor  old 
friend,"  he  said,  "it  is  a  pity  that  you  have  no  little 
ones  of  your  own  to  love." 

"Why,  papa?"  said  Mary.  "When  Uncle  Carl's 
got  us  he  don't  need  any  more,  does  he?" 

"Of  course  not,  little  sweetheart,"  said  Engle- 
wood. "You  fill  Uncle  Carl's  heart  so  full  that  he 
has  no  room  for  more  just  at  present." 


UNCLE  CARL  191 

"Ain't  you  going  to  speak  to  mama,  Uncle  Carl?" 
asked  Arthur.  "She's  been  waiting  ever  so  long." 

And  indeed,  Mrs.  Courtright,  walking  more 
slowly  behind  the  children,  had  not  been  observed  by 
the  two  gentlemen  as  she  stood  at  a  short  distance 
watching  the  little  comedy.  Hastily  putting  the 
children  down,  Englewood  advanced  toward  her. 

"It  is  always  a  proud  day  with  me,"  he  said,  "when 
I  can  clasp  hands  with  Mrs.  Courtright." 

"Indeed  you  are  not  the  only  proud  one  on  this 
occasion,  Mr.  Englewood,"  said  that  lady.  "You 
are  more  than  welcome  always,  but  to-day  especially 
so,  because  through  you  I  have  found  one  of  the  dear- 
est little  girls  in  the  world."  As  she  said  this,  Miss 
Braton,  who  had  lingered  behind,  advanced  with  ex- 
tended hand. 

"I  am  glad  to  join  in  welcoming  such  a  friend  as 
Mr.  Englewood  to  such  a  home  as  Mrs.  Court- 
right's,"  she  said  with  tremulous  lips. 

"Miss  Braton,"  said  Carl,  "my  heart  is  too  full 
just  now  for  me  to  express  how  I  feel  at  such  a  wel- 
come as  you  all  give  me.  It  is  no  small  thing  for  me 
to  know  that  there  is  a  place  in  this  home  for  such  a 
rolling  stone  as  I." 

"Always  more  than  welcome  here,  old  friend," 
said  Courtright. 

And  then  chatting  on  they  all  moved  toward  the 
house,  Carl  with  Baby  Beatrice  on  his  shoulder  and 
the  other  children  holding  closely  to  his  coat. 

Hattie  Braton,  now  that  we  see  her  in  such 
different  surroundings,  was  an  exceedingly  attractive 
miss.  The  hard  lines  were  rapidly  disappearing 
under  the  influence  of  this  happy  home,  and  a  sweet 
winsomeness  of  feature,  a  clear,  frank  and  often 
merry  eye,  a  subdued  but  care-free  manner,  were  in 


192  UNCLE  CARL 

marked  contrast  to  the  tired,  pleading  face  with  its 
humbled  yet  stubborn  pride  that  we  saw  only  three 
weeks  ago  in  the  Theatre  Comique.  She  was  dressed 
in  a  plainly  made  but  spotlessly  clean  white  dress, 
with  a  little  touch  of  color  at  the  throat  and  in  the 
milliner's  creation  on  her  head.  Doubtless  our  lady 
readers  would  like  a  detailed  description  of  her  cos- 
tume, but  we  are  but  a  man  and  confess  our  inability 
to  analyze  the  wonderful  architecture  of  a  wroman's 
wardrobe.  And  dare  we  confess  also,  that  so  long 
as  a  woman's  dress  is  clean,  with  nothing  strikingly 
ugly  about  it,  we  see  and  enjoy  the  picture  without 
noting  the  details?  Tasteful  dress  is  necessary,  but 
like  the  minor  details  of  a  picture,  if  it  is  in  good 
taste  it  emphasizes  the  main  character  without  ob- 
truding itself  for  special  consideration. 

In  music  there  are  some  who  are  so  well  educated 
in  its  mysteries  that  they  grasp  whole  grand  har- 
monies at  once;  but  the  large  majority  of  music  lov- 
ers only  follow  the  main  air,  the  other  parts  being 
but  indefinitely  heard  or  felt  as  perfecting  the  single 
strain — giving  it  a  setting,  so  to  speak.  If  there 
should  be  a  discord  it  would  be  at  once  felt  and  noted, 
but  if  the  harmony  is  perfect  they  feel  and  enjoy  the 
whole  but  remember  only  the  air.  And  so,  we  appre- 
hend, it  is  in  matters  of  dress.  Many  women,  and 
some  men,  grasp  every  detail.  But  the  large  ma- 
jority, unless  there  be  something  inharmonious, 
in  bad  taste, — a  discord, — take  but  little  note  of  the 
details.  If  all  is  well  they  enjoy  the  whole;  but  after 
all  it  is  the  personality,  of  which  dress  is  only  the  set- 
ting or  embellishment,  that  attracts.  It  is  the  face, 
the  ego,  that  appeals  to  us.  We  call  at  our  friends' 
homes  to  see  them,  not  their  furniture.  We  like  or 
dislike,  admire  or  condemn,  love  or  hate,  not  what 


UNCLE  CARL  193 

is  worn  but  the  one  who  wears  it.  And  so,  dear  la- 
dies, continue  to  dress  the  best  you  know  how,  for  both 
the  educated  and  the  uneducated  realize  and  appre- 
ciate the  perfect.  But  remember,  too,  that  simplicity 
in  dress,  as  in  music,  is  better  understood  and  enjoyed 
by  the  majority  than  is  a  too  elaborate  mass  of  frills 
and  furbelows. 

Miss  Braton  was  tall  for  her  age,  with  a  graceful 
yet  decided  step  and  bearing,  somewhat  unusual  in 
one  just  verging  on  womanhood.  And  as  she  and 
Mr.  Courtright  walked  in  advance,  Carl  was  im- 
pressed with  her  general  appearance,  even  as  he  had 
been  pleased  by  the  quiet  ease  with  which  she  greeted 
him. 

"I  can  hardly  believe  she  is  the  same  young  lady 
that  I  knew  out  West,"  he  said,  addressing  Mrs. 
Courtright.  "Why,  I  thought  that  she  was  just  an 
unfortunate  little  girl  that  needed  a  helping  hand; 
and  here  she  seems  to  be  a  full-blown  rose  of  a  wo- 
man, to  whom,  if  I  didn't  know  different,  I  would 
hardly  suggest  that  she  needed  assistance." 

"She  is  a  dear,  sweet  little  girl,"  said  Mrs.  Court- 
right.  "And  though  we  have  had  her  with  us  less 
than  a  fortnight,  it  seems  as  if  she  had  always 
nestled  in  my  heart.  But  I  know  she  needs  help. 
Not  that  she  is  weak,  but  that  her  misfortunes  have 
almost  discouraged  her;  and  I  am  going  to  see  that 
she  has  every  opportunity  to  develop  what  I  believe 
to  be  an  exceptionally  fine  character." 

"Where  do  I  come  in?"  asked  Carl.  "Surely  you 
are  not  going  to  take  my  work  away  from  me?" 

"You  have  done  enough,"  said  the  lady. 

"To  use  a  slang  expression,  'that's  what  I  call 
gall,'  "  humorously  remarked  Englewood.  "I  find 
13 


i94  UNCLE  CARL 

a  flower,  take  steps  to  transplant  it  and  anticipate  a 
great  deal  of  pleasure  in  assisting  it  to  grow,  and  my 
lady  steps  in  and  announces  her  determination  to  de- 
prive me  of  that  pleasure  because  she  likes  the  flower 
herself." 

"But  really,  my  dear  friend,  you  cannot  give  her 
the  care  she  needs,"  said  Mrs.  Courtright.  "She 
needs  first  a  home  and  the  little  attentions  that  only 
a  woman  can  give.  She  needs  education  and  society 
of  the  right  kind.  She  needs,  oh,  a  thousand  things 
that  you  could  never  give  her." 

"I  know  that,"  responded  Carl,  "and  it  was  for 
that  reason  that  I  took  the  liberty  of  sending  her  to 
you.  For  you  know  how  to  do  these  things ;  and  I 
am  truly  glad  that  your  heart  has  gone  out  to  her  for 
herself  instead  of  because  you  were  ever  willing  to 
help  all  unfortunates.  But  at  the  same  time,  there 
is  considerable  financial  expense  to  be  borne,  and  that 
burden  I  claim  as  my  right.  The  money  end  is  about 
all  a  great  ugly  man  can  handle  anyhow,  and  I  don't 
purpose  giving  up  that  part  of  it." 

"You  are  wrong,  Carl  Englewood,"  said  Mrs. 
Courtright.  "The  money  end,  as  you  call  it,  is  not 
all,  not  even  the  most  important  part  of  what  a  good 
man  can  'handle'  for  the  good  of  others.  I  can  say 
without  hesitation  that  there  is  a  man  whose  whole 
life  so  far  as  I  know  it — and  I  have  been  more  or 
less  in  touch  with  it  for  some  years — has  been  a  most 
potent  influence  in  the  upbuilding  of  character,  where 
the  money  question  did  not  enter  at  all.  Ever  ready 
with  the  kind  word,  the  sympathetic  counsel,  the  help- 
ing hand,  he  has  done  his  part,  done  it  well,  and  he 
has  not  been  over-supplied  with  money  either.  Our 
little  friend  Hattie  has  had  more  good  done  for  her, 
has  had  her  eyes  opened  to  more,  of  real  beauty  in 


UNCLE  CARL  195 

life,  has  been  given  more  courage  and  pure  ambition, 
higher  aims  and  loftier  ideals  by  the  ready  sympa- 
thy and  friendly  counsel  and  assistance  of  this  man 
than  she  could  have  gained  with  a  bank  account  of  a 
million  dollars.  Money  is  good,  but  it  is  not  all,  or 
even  the  major  part  of  the  real  good  that  a  man  can 
do." 

"I  am  very  glad,"  said  Carl,  "if  Miss  Braton  has 
such  a  friend  as  you  say,  though  I  must  also  confess 
to  a  little  feeling  of  disappointment,  for  I  had  really 
counted  on  the  privilege  of  helping  her  myself. 
However,  let  the  best  be  done  for  her  that  can  be,  for 
I  believe  her  to  be  very  worthy.  I  suppose  that  I 
shall  meet  this  paragon  of  perfection,  shall  I  not? 
Who  is  he,  anyhow?" 

"Oh,  you  are  splendid !"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Court- 
right.  "Know,  most  innocent  sir,  that  Miss  Braton 
says  that  the  only  man  she  ever  knew,  save  her  father, 
who  was  a  real  friend  to  her;  the  man  whom  she  con- 
siders the  noblest  of  God's  creatures  and  reveres  be- 
cause she  can't  help  it;  the  one  in  whose  eyes  before 
all  others  she  wishes  to  stand  purified  and  worthy  of 
his  trust  and  friendship,  is  Mr.  Carl  Englewood." 

"Thanks,"  said  Carl  laconically.  "So  you  thought 
flattery — spread  on  thick  enough — would  cause  me 
to  yield  wholly  to  your  care  the  flower  I  found,  did 
you  ?  It  won't  work,  my  lady.  I  try  to  do  my  duty 
in  a  small  way,  it  is  true,  but  you  have  rather  over- 
seasoned  the  cake.  I  still  hold  that  it  is  my  right  to 
stand  the  financial  end  of  the  work." 

"My  dear  friend,"  said  the  lady,  "it  was  perhaps 
vulgar  to  say  such  very  complimentary  things,  but  I 
didn't  overdo  it.  You  yourself  are  constantly  talking 
about  giving  people  flowers  before  they  are  dead 
rather  than  after,  and  though  you  dislike  to  receive 


196  UNCLE  CARL 

them  yourself  I  thought  I  would  just  give  you  a  little 
bunch  of  the  flowers  to  which  I  know  you  to  be  en- 
titled. However,  I  have  no  wish  to  debar  you  from 
your  rights  with  Hattie,  and  you  will  have  plenty  to 
do.  We  will  discuss  all  of  that  later,  for  we  need 
your  counsel ;  and  then,  too,  you  must  know  the  little 
girl  better  before  we  take  any  decisive  steps." 

Having  by  this  time  arrived  at  the  house,  our 
friends  separated  to  prepare  for  the  evening  meal; 
following  which,  came  a  good  romp  with  the  child- 
ren and  then — the  little  folk  snugly  tucked  away  in 
their  beds — the  older  people  settled  down  to  a  quiet, 
chatty  evening  hour. 

The  two  ladies  withdrew  early,  leaving  the  men 
with  their  cigars;  Mrs.  Courtright  saying: 

"I  have  a  thousand  things  to  talk  about  with  you, 
Mr.  Englewood,  but  I  know  that  you  and  my  hus- 
band have  yet  some  business  of  importance  to  discuss. 
So,  I'll  wait;  but  just  you  be  prepared  for  to-morrow, 
for  I  am  going  to  take  you  in  hand  then." 

"What  a  terrible  prospect!"  said  Carl.  "It's  for- 
tunate that  my  experience  with  the  wild  Indians  of 
the  West  has  taught  me  fortitude,  otherwise,  I  am 
afraid  that  I  would  fade  away  during  the  night. 
However,  I'll  be  prepared  for  your  worst,"  and  with 
a  fervent  "Good  night,"  and  a  low-voiced,  "God 
keep  you,  Mr.  Englewood,"  from  Hattie,  the  ladies 
retired. 

Our  two  friends  sat  long  after  the  ladies  had  left 
them,  discussing  probable  and  possible  developments 
in  regard  to  the  Cramer  estate.  They  were  agreed 
that,  in  the  light  of  Mrs.  Hazelton's  report  of  Hattie 
Cramer  and  her  suspicion  that  there  may  have  been 
some  mistake  in  the  matter,  the  question  should  be 
thoroughly  investigated.  Carl  could  not  sufficiently 


UNCLE  CARL  197 

blame  himself  for  having  neglected  seeing  his  ward, 
and  personally  giving  her  in  charge  of  his  old-time 
friend.  His  regret  was  keen,  though  at  the  time  he 
knew  of  no  reason  for  the  adoption  of  a  different  ar- 
rangement. It  was  also  agreed  between  the  two 
friends  that  Stanhope  was  not  to  be  trusted,  and  each 
had  a  strong  suspicion  that  he  was  in  some  way  guilty 
of  sharp  practice  in  the  matter  at  issue.  He  was  now 
the  only  surviving  relative  of  the  deceased  Cramer, 
and  thus,  in  law,  heir  to  the  property.  But  his  un- 
necessary haste  in  trying  to  close  the  estate;  his  re- 
lations with  Jenkins ;  the  sudden  and  mysterious  death 
of  the  girl — all  combined  to  render  caution  advisable. 
It  was  therefore  decided  that  Courtright  should  ap- 
pear before  the  probate  court  at  the  appointed  time, 
and  secure  if  possible  a  delay  of  a  few  weeks.  They 
felt  that  there  could  be  no  reasonable  objection  to 
this  in  the  minds  either  of  the  judge  or  of  Stanhope. 
Proofs  of  Englewood's  death  had  not  yet  been  re- 
ceived, and  due  respect  for  the  deceased  would  be 
sufficient  warrant  for  a  short  postponement.  Also, 
Courtright  would  argue,  the  proofs  of  Hattie 
Cramer's  death  were  not  sufficient,  as  Mrs.  Hazelton 
had  not  made  positive  declaration  that  the  girl  in  her 
charge  was  the  daughter  of  the  deceased  Cramer.  In 
behalf  of  his  "late"  friend,  Englewood,  the  lawyer 
would  ask  that  sufficient  time  be  granted  to  establish 
the  girl's  identity. 

Meanwhile,  Carl,  after  a  rest  of  two  or  three  days, 
would,  if  Courtright  succeeded  in  securing  the  court's 
indulgence,  proceed  South,  visit  the  school  where  his 
friend's  daughter  had  pursued  her  studies,  and  after 
full  investigation  there,  continue  on  to  Florida  to 
get  such  light  as  he  could  from  Mrs.  Hazelton. 

"If  there  has  been  any  crooked  work  in  the  mat- 


198  UNCLE  CARL 

ter,"  said  Courtright,  "we  will  ferret  it  out;  and  it 
seems  to  me  that  for  the  present,  at  least,  it  is  just  as 
well  to  leave  Stanhope  in  ignorance  of  the  fact  that 
you  are  still  alive,  and  liable  to  raise  'particular  Ned' 
with  him  if  he  has  been  up  to  trickery." 

"Just  as  you  think  best  about  that,"  replied  Carl. 
"I  know  that  he  is  not  an  upright  man,  but  still  I  am 
disinclined  to  believe  him  to  be  altogether  a  scoun- 
drel." 

As  the  case  was  on  call  for  the  second  day  follow- 
ing, it  was  arranged  that  Courtright  should  take  the 
boat  for  Kaloma  the  next  night;  Englewood  quietly 
remaining  where  he  was,  and  if  all  turned  out  well  he 
would  leave  for  the  South  upon  Courtright's  return. 
Having  thus  settled  their  program  the  two  friends 
separated  for  the  night. 


CHAPTER  XX 

We  wonder  how  our  readers  view  Carl  Engle- 
wood.  Have  we  shown  him  in  his  true  colors, — for 
be  it  known  we  write  of  a  real,  not  of  a  fictitious  char- 
acter,— or  has  our  pen  but  imperfectly  portrayed  the 
real  man?  While  all  who  knew  him  as  he  lived  his 
life  united  in  believing  him  to  be  in  every  sense  a 
man  of  honor,  there  were  as  many  different  opinions 
of  him  as  there  are  seeds  in  a  pomegranate;  and  this 
difference  of  opinion  was  due  largely  to  two  things. 
First,  his  manner  when  in  repose  or  moving  about  in 
public.  He  had  at  these  times  a  quiet  dignity,  a  se- 
rene, independent,  yet  unobtrusive  bearing  that,  to 
strangers,  was  almost  repellant.  And  even  to  ac- 
quaintances he  seemed  so  cold  and  austere  that  they 
sometimes  shrank  from  approaching  him.  Not  that 
they  feared  him,  but  there  was  that  about  him  that 
affected  many  as  a  minister  of  the  gospel  sometimes 
affects  a  criminal,  making  him  feel  as  unworthy  to 
associate  with  the  representative  of  a  church;  and 
not  only  unworthy  in  their  own  estimation,  but  Engle- 
wood's  clear  eye  and  intellectual  cast  of  feature  con- 
veyed the  impression  that  he  had  that  impossible 
keenness  of  mental  vision  that  could  detect  unworthi- 
ness  at  a  glance.  This  manner  was  unconscious  with 
Carl  and  was  a  decided  cross  to  him.  His  more  inti- 
mate friends  sometimes  laughingly  referred  to  it,  with 
wonder  that  he  had  upon  closer  acquaintance  proved 
so  different  from  their  first  impression  of  him.  Carl, 
though  immaculate  in  dress  and  self-respecting  in 
character,  was  not  one  of  the  "holier  than  thou" 
people,  but  simply  a  good  average  citizen  with  de- 


200  UNCLE  CARL 

cided  opinions  as  to  his  own  duties  and  a  courage  of 
conviction  that  impelled  him  to  live  his  life  according 
to  his  lights,  even  if  the  people  did  fail  to  under- 
stand his  inner  self.  He  often  tried  to  overcome 
what  he  thought  an  unfortunate  manner,  for  he 
wanted  to  keep  in  close  touch  with  humanity.  But 
one  cannot  change  the  prim  dignity  of  the  poplar  tree 
into  the  drooping  grace  of  the  willow,  and  the  more 
Carl  tried  to  unbend  before  strangers  the  more  ap- 
parent were  the  poplar  tree  characteristics.  Then, 
too,  he  was  given  to  abstraction  and  would  often 
pass  friend  after  friend  during  one  of  his  long  walks 
with  unseeing  eyes,  and  this  habit  added  to  the  im- 
pression of  his  exclusiveness.  Most  people  like  to 
know  of  the  inner  life  of  those  with  whom  they  come 
in  contact;  but  Carl's  manner  seemed  to  forbid  inti- 
macy to  the  casual  acquaintance,  and  so  in  their  en- 
deavor to  understand  him  they  often  made  guesses 
that  were  very  wide  of  the  mark.  He  further  puz- 
zled those  who  met  him  by  his  knowledge  of  so  many 
different  branches  of  learning;  conversing  intelli- 
gently now  on  philosophy,  now  on  mechanics,  again 
on  statecraft  and  kindred  topics.  His  reading,  cov- 
ering a  large  field,  had  been  pursued  with  intelligence 
and  purpose,  and  though  not  a  specialist  in  any 
branch  of  knowledge,  he  had  yet  accumulated  a  fund 
that  was  much  more  than  a  smattering,  and  enabled 
him  to  draw  nearer  and  nearer  to  the  goal  he  had 
set  for  himself  in  literature. 

A  lady  of  his  acquaintance  had  been  watching  our 
friend  as  he  passed  her  home  on  a  slippery  day  in 
mid-winter.  He  strode  on  with  his  easy  dignity  as 
if  dry  sand  were  under  his  feet  instead  of  glary  ice. 
"I'd  give  ten  dollars,"  she  said,  "to  see  Mr.  Engle- 
wood  slip  and  fall,  just  to  see  him  lose  his  dignity 


UNCLE  CARL  201 

for  once."  And  this  was  often  the  feeling  of  those 
who  did  not  know  him  well.  Those  who  did  know 
him  forgot  the  dignity  of  manner  in  their  love  for 
the  dignity  of  soul.  And  yet,  with  those  whom  he 
admitted  to  close  friendship,  Carl  could  unbend  and 
be  as  trifling  in  manner,  as  nonsensical  in  his  fun  as 
any  one.  He  enjoyed  a  little  nonsense  occasionally, 
and  with  children  especially  he  liked  to  throw  aside 
the  sober  cares  of  life  and  be  as  young  in  action  as 
were  the  children  with  whom  he  played.  And  we 
wonder  what  the  lady  we  have  mentioned  would 
think  if  she  could  have  seen  Carl  on  the  day  after  his 
arrival  at  Courtright's  home.  The  lawyer  had  gone 
to  the  city  immediately  after  the  morning  meal,  and 
as  Mrs.  Courtright  and  Hattie  Braton  were  busily 
engaged  for  the  morning  with  household  duties, 
Englewood  and  the  children  had  gone  forth  to  enjoy 
the  delights  of  out-of-door  life.  First  they  had  taken 
a  stroll  out  to  see  the  chickens  and  rabbits;  to  feed 
the  swans,  to  visit  the  horses  and  cows,  and,  in  short, 
to  say  good  morning  to  all  of  the  household  pets ;  and 
then,  Englewood  having  finished  his  cigar,  for  it  was 
one  of  that  man's  habits  to  enjoy  what  one  of  our 
great  reformers  has  called  the  "connecting  link  be- 
tween a  coal  of  fire  and  a  fool,"  the  children  were 
ready  for  play;  and  Carl  entered  at  once  into  their 
games  with  all  the  zest  of  a  boy;  and  he  thoroughly 
enjoyed  it  too.  He  played  "hide  and  seek,"  and 
"duck  on  the  rock."  He  jumped  the  rope  which  Ar- 
thur and  Mary  turned  for  him,  and  then  little  Bea- 
trice came  dragging  Arthur's  cart,  and  it  was  "let's 
play  horse."  The  children  insisted  on  being  the 
horses,  and  there  was  nothing  for  it  but  that  Engle- 
wood must  cramp  his  tall  form  into  the  little  eigh- 
teen by  twenty  inch  box,  while  they  drew  him  with 


202  UNCLE  CARL 

great  glee  over  the  lawn.  There  on  the  velvety  grass 
the  play-horses  became  skittish  and  succeeded  in  over- 
turning cart  and  driver,  and  then  they  all  three 
pounced  upon  him  for  a  hilarious  rough  and  tumble 
play;  and  the  children's  merry  voices  and  Engle- 
wood's  deep  laughter  made  beautiful  music  that 
bright  summer  morning. 

Do  you  think,  my  reader,  that  Englewood  really 
lost  any  dignity  by  these  antics  ?  Do  you  respect  him 
less,  have  less  confidence  in  his  character,  because  he 
could  thus  enter  into  the  sports  of  childhood?  We 
do  not.  We  rather  envy  him,  for  we  have  known 
something  of  his  sorrows — his  burdens — and  of  his 
tenacious  hold  of  principle  through  it  all.  We  be- 
lieve in  him  and  do  not  begrudge  him  the  rest  and 
renewed  vigor  that  he  gets  from  his  hearty  enjoyment 
of  child-life.  We  believe  that  the  world  miscon- 
ceives, as  a  rule,  the  meaning  of  "dignity."  True 
dignity  is  not,  cannot  be,  artificial.  But  it  is  innate, 
part  of  one's  soul.  The  greatest  dignity  is  that 
which  is  nearest  to  Nature.  It  is  purity,  truth,  sim- 
plicity, and  strength.  Whether  a  man  rules  a  nation, 
or  stops  to  pat  on  the  head  a  poor,  friendless,  mongrel 
cur,  true  dignity  is  present  if  sincerity  and  love  are  the 
rulers  of  action;  and  there  is  not  dignity  no  matter 
how  stern,  how  austere,  how  perfect  the  artificial 
veneer  of  manner  may  be,  if  selfishness,  servility,  or 
cowardice  in  matters  of  principle  rule  the  life. 

And  so  Mrs.  Courtright  and  Hattie  found  the 
four  children  when,  their  house  in  order,  they  came 
out  an  hour  later. 

"What  do  you  think  of  that  picture,  little  daugh- 
ter?" asked  Mrs.  Courtright,  as,  still  some  distance 
away,  they  saw  the  group.  Englewood,  on  his  back 
on  the  green  sward,  was  apparently  making  strenu- 


UNCLE  CARL  203 

ous  efforts  to  sit  up  while  the  two  older  children  were 
exerting  their  puny  strength  to  hold  him  down,  and 
little  Baby  Beatrice,  with  Carl's  hat  pulled  down 
over  her  ears,  her  chubby  face  full  of  mischief,  was 
calmly  seated  across  the  victim's  knees,  while  she 
shook  a  fat  little  finger  at  him — "Now,  oo  be  a  dood 
boy,  Uncle  Tarl,  else  I  san't  let  oo  tiss  me,"  she 
warned. 

"I  think  that  it  is  beautiful,"  answered  Hattie; 
"but  I  could  never  have  believed  Mr.  Englewood 
could  be  like  that.  He  has  always  seemed  to  me  to 
be  too  full  of  care  to  lose  himself  in  mirth." 

"Oh,  the  longer  you  know  him  the  more  of  his 
many  sides  you  will  see,"  said  the  elder  lady.  "Hus- 
band and  I  have  known  him  more  or  less  intimately 
for  some  years,  and,  like  Shakespeare's  plays,  in 
which  we  find  something  new  every  time  we  read 
them,  there  seems  to  be  no  end  to  the  surprises  he 
causes  us.  I  can  say  this,  too,  that  every  unexpected 
thing  he  does  seems  to  have  something  beautiful 
in  it." 

"Don't  you  think  that  that  is  perhaps  because  it  is 
he  that  does  it?"  suggested  Hattie.  "Most  men 
would  look  somewhat  ridiculous  in  his  present  atti- 
tude." Carl,  on  hands  and  knees,  was  now  strug- 
gling to  rise  to  his  feet.  "But  somehow  Mr.  Engle- 
wood doesn't;  I  think  it  must  be  because  one  can't 
help  believing  in  him.  Sometimes  I  have  felt,  as  I 
looked  at  him,  that  I  wouldn't  dare  to  speak  to  him ; 
but  just  as  soon  as  he  begins  to  talk  to  me  I  forget 
that,  and  only  just  believe  him  to  be  the  truest  man 
in  the  world." 

Englewood,  just  then  catching  sight  of  the  ladies, 
straightened  up  and  walked  toward  them  with  a 
child  on  either  shoulder.  "Welcome,  ladies,"  he 


204  UNCLE  CARL 

said  with  mock  gravity.  "We  are  proud  that  you 
visit  our  nursery.  We  children  have  been  having 
heaps  of  fun;  haven't  we,  sweetheart?" 

"Ess,  we  has,"  lisped  Beatrice;  "but  Uncle  Tarl 
has  been  offul  bad.  He  tipped  ze  cart  over  and  dot 
all  mussed  up." 

"Well,  well,"  laughed  Mrs.  Courtright,  "you  do 
look  as  if  a  cyclone  had  struck  you.  Is  that  the  lat- 
est style  of  combing  hair?" 

"Why,  you  awful  boy,"  exclaimed  Mary,  "you 
sit  right  down  while  I  fix  you  up!"  And  slipping  to 
the  ground,  she  led  him  to  the  lawn  seat,  and  after 
searching  his  pockets  for  a  comb,  soon  had  his  hair 
straightened  out  to  her  satisfaction. 

"There,  children,"  said  Mrs.  Courtright,  "now 
you  little  folks  run  away  and  play,  and  let  Uncle 
Carl  rest.  He  must  be  all  tired  out;  besides, 
mamma  and  Aunt  Hattie  want  to  visit  with  him  for 
awhile." 

And  the  children  scampered  off,  while  the  three 
seated  themselves  under  the  shade  of  a  large  maple. 
The  ladies  had  chosen  to  sit  with  Carl  on  the  long 
garden  seat  where  Mary  had  led  him  for  the  ton- 
sorial  treatment;  but  that  gentleman  immediately 
arose,  and  bringing  a  rustic  chair  from  a  little  dis- 
tance and  placing  it  so  that  he  could  face  the  two, 
seated  himself  with  the  remark,  "I  can  always  enjoy 
my  flowers  better  if  they  are  where  I  can  see  them." 

"Is  that  what  people  call  a  'jolly,'  Mr.  Engle- 
wood?"  asked  Hattie. 

"Yes,  I  think  so — jolly  nice  flowers,"  replied  Carl. 

"Oh,  slang!  Mr.  Englewood,"  said  Mrs.  Court- 
right.  "I  thought  you  never  used  it.  Hattie,  this 
man  is  always  throwing  bouquets  at  some  one,  but 
you  mustn't  believe  half  he  says." 


UNCLE  CARL  205 

"Miss  Braton,"  said  Englewood,  "every  bouquet 
I  throw  in  your  direction  you  are  to  receive  and  en- 
joy if  you  can,  for  I  try  to  put  a  flower  of  truth  in 
every  one  of  them.  Our  mutual  friend  slanders  me." 

"I  think,"  said  Hattie,  "that  all  flowers  are  beau- 
tiful, even  if  we  do  not  deserve  them;  and  if  there 
is  the  fragrance  of  truth  in  them  they  are  doubly  ac- 
ceptable." 

"There,  madam,  are  you  sufficiently  squelched?" 
said  Carl. 

"Squelched?  No,"  said  Mrs.  Courtright.  "But 
I  admit  that  flattery  from  you  is  much  more  accept- 
able than  the  constant  criticism  and  suspicion  that  one 
hears  so  much  from  others." 

"Thanks,"  said  Carl  laconically,  "I  never  flatter. 
I  may  be  shallow,  short-sighted,  ignorant,  but  I  think 
that  no  compliment  that  can  be  paid  to  a  pure  wo- 
man can  be  so  exaggerated  as  to  be  in  any  sense  flat- 
tery." 

"But  to  change  the  subject.  I  believe  in  having 
a  thorough  understanding  when  two  or  more  are  in- 
terested in  any  affair  of  importance,  and  we  have 
one  to  discuss  before  I  go  South.  We  have  here, 
Mrs.  Courtright,  a  little  flower  that  I  found  out 
West,  and  I  think  that  we  ought  to  decide  where  to 
plant  it,  and  who  the  gardener  shall  be;  and  also  I 
am  yet  in  the  dark  as  to  just  what  kind  of  a  flower 
it  is." 

"Oh,  Mr.  Englewood,"  said  Hattie,  "you  have 
been  very  kind,  very  generous,  and  so  has — mother," 
and  she  leaned  toward  Mrs.  Courtright;  "but  I  do 
not  intend  to  be  a  burden  upon  either  of  you.  Just 
as  soon  as  I  can  get  work,  I  must  earn  my  own  liv- 
ing." 

"There,    there,    dearie,"    said    Mrs.    Courtright. 


206  UNCLE  CARL 

"Don't  you  worry  about  being  a  burden.  You  are 
a  lightener  of  burdens.  It  seems  just  as  if  a  sun- 
beam had  been  added  to  our  home  life." 

"But  still,"  said  Carl,  "it  seems  to  me  that  it  is 
right  for  Miss  Braton  to  be  independent  if  she  can. 
Only,  it  is  also  right,  if  she  has  friends  who  are  will- 
ing and  able  to  give  her  a  start,  to  accept  their  aid, 
that  she  may  reach  a  field  of  higher  endeavor  and 
usefulness  than  she  could  without  that  aid.  And 
this  assistance  is  in  no  way  to  be  considered  a  matter 
of  charity;  it  is  simply  a  loan  to  be  returned  when 
the  fruit  ripens.  At  any  rate,  we  may  discuss  such 
aid,  may  we  not,  little  girl?" 

"Why,  of  course  you  may,"  said  Hattie.  "But 
you  have  both  been  so  kind  already  that  I  cannot 
thank  you  enough." 

"Now  see  here,  Miss  Braton,"  said  Carl,  "there  is 
one  thing  I  strongly  object  to,  and  that  is  verbal 
thanks  for  my  selfish  investments.  If  I  am  entitled 
to  gratitude,  let  the  life  show  that  my  judgment  was 
not  at  fault;  and  I  am  repaid  manyfold  if  I  may 
sometimes  enjoy  the  fragrance  of  a  success  I  have 
helped  to  make  possible.  Never  thank  me  again  in 
such  matters,  please." 

"But,  Mr.  Englewood,"  said  Hattie,  "surely  you 
are  too  much — " 

"Hush!  little  daughter,"  said  Mrs.  Courtright, 
who  knew  Carl's  peculiarities  in  such  matters,  "Mr. 
Englewood  is  just  an  old  crank;  he  thinks  he  can 
throw  all  the  bouquets  and  that  we  have  no  right  to 
give  him  a  single  little  violet.  But  he  is  really  in 
earnest.  Only,  some  time  we  will  just  smother  him 
with  posies  and  he  won't  be  able  to  help  himself. 
Just  see  if  we  don't." 

"Now,  then,"  resumed  Carl,  "if  I  understand  the 


UNCLE  CARL  207 

position,  you  want  to  start  right  out  and  earn  money. 
But  the  question  is,  What  can  you  do;  what  special 
work  are  you  fitted  for?" 

"I  am  afraid  that  I  am  not  good  for  much,"  said 
Hattie  despondently;  "but  I  am  willing  to  do  any 
drudgery  that  is  honorable." 

"Tut,  tut,  Hattie,"  said  Mrs.  Courtright,  "don't 
talk  about  drudgery.  Why,  Mr.  Englewood,  she 
can  play  and  sing  beautifully.  She  is  a  splendid 
reader,  and  she  can  draw  just  splendidly.  I'm  sure 
we  can  find  something  better  than  drudgery,  dear,  if 
you  must  work." 

"Oh,  I  have  always  wanted  to  take  up  art!"  ex- 
claimed Hattie;  "but  of  course  that  is  out  of  the 
question." 

"Why  out  of  the  question?"  asked  Carl.  "What 
line  of  art  appeals  to  you?" 

"Oh,  sketching  of  all  kinds  has  always  had  a  fas- 
cination for  me,"  replied  Miss  Braton.  "Ever  since 
I  was  a  little  girl  I  have  loved  to  draw." 

"She  has  some  beautiful  pencil  sketches,"  said 
Mrs.  Courtright.  "You  must  see  them,  for  I  am 
sure  Hattie  has  exceptional  talent  in  that  direction." 

"If  that  be  so,"  said  Carl;  "it  is  a  talent  that  it 
may  be  wise  to  develop.  I  am  not  myself  a  very 
competent  critic,  but  I  should  like  to  see  some  of  your 
work.  May  I?" 

"Oh,  I  would  be  ashamed  to  show  my  bungling 
work  to  you,  for  I  know  that  you  can  do  so  mutch 
better  than — "  A  recollection  of  some  sketches  of 
his  and  the  circumstances  which  brought  them  about, 
caused  Hattie  to  hesitate,  and  a  flush  suffused  her 
face  as  she  cast  her  eyes  down.  But  for  his  sketches, 
where  and  what  would  she  be  now ! 

"Never  be  ashamed,  Miss  Braton,  of  your  best, 


208  UNCLE  CARL 

because  some  one  else  has  had  better  opportunities 
than  you,"  said  Englewood.  "No  one,  no  matter 
what  his  ability,  can  do  better  than  his  best;  and 
if  you  do  your  best  you  are  therefore  equal  to  the 
greatest.  I  should  really  like  to  see  your  sketches, 
so  trot  along,  little  girl,  and  bring  them  out  to  me." 

And  Hattie  obediently  walked  to  the  house  and 
soon  returned  with  a  portfolio  of  sketches  and  draw- 
ings. Crude,  they  were,  for  she  had  never  received 
instructions  in  technique;  but  they  certainly  showed 
a  marked  natural  talent,  and  Englewood  looked 
them  over  with  interest,  while  Hattie  stood  nervously 
by.  Her  heart  had  been  in  that  work.  They  were 
little  scenes  of  her  child-life  at  school;  the  play- 
ground; some  of  the  buildings;  her  room,  and 
some  crude  attempts  at  portraiture. 

Having  finished  looking  over  the  work,  Engle- 
wood sat  for  some  moments  in  meditation,  finally 
saying: 

"It  seems  to  me  that  there  is  marked  ability  here, 
but  in  need  of  training,  of  course.  Perhaps  some- 
thing can  be  made  of  it.  But  there  is  something  else 
to  consider  first.  As  you  are  now,  Miss  Braton, — 
pardon  me, — you  are  very  ignorant.  Should  you 
try  for  work  now  you  could  but  barely  make  a  living, 
for  the  higher  salaries  are  paid  only  to  the  specially 
competent.  But  you  have  in  you,  I  believe,  latent 
abilities  that  if  developed  would  enable  you  to  ac- 
complish much  more  in  a  pecuniary  way,  as  well  as 
to  place  you  in  a  position  of  usefulness,  of  power, 
and  of  high  influence  in  the  world.  As  an  artist  you 
might  succeed.  But,  for  an  artist  to  reach  the  best 
results,  he  must  know  much  more  than  how  to  draw 
lines,  or  mix  colors.  He  must  have  an  education 
in  various  branches.  History,  philosophy,  sociology, 


UNCLE  CARL  209 

botany,  indeed  all  branches  of  knowledge  are  useful; 
not  only  to  produce  the  highest  type  of  the  artist,  but 
also  to  produce  the  highest  and  best  type  of  charac- 
ter. Now,  the  first  thing,  it  seems  to  me,  is  for  you 
to  complete  your  education,  and  if  your  talent  as 
shown  in  these  sketches  meets  with  the  approval  of 
recognized  judges,  and  I  am  sure  that  it  will,  then 
that  ability  also  should  be  developed." 

"That  is  just  what  I  think,"  said  Mrs.  Court- 
right,  "and  I  am  going  to  see  that  she  gets  an  edu- 
cation." 

"Oh,  you  are!"  ejaculated  Englewood.  "I  sup- 
pose I  have  nothing  to  say  about  it,  eh?" 

"But  you  dear  friends  are  too  good,"  said  Hattie. 
"I  could  never  accept  such  a  sacrifice  at  your  hands. 
You  yourself,  Mr.  Englewood,  told  me  that  I  would 
be  independent." 

"So  you  will,  so  you  will,"  chuckled  Carl.  "But 
you  can't  be  independent  until  you  pay  us  what  you 
owe  us;  and  you  can't  do  that  until  you  are  able  to 
earn  more  than  a  bare  living.  And  you  can't  more 
than  support  yourself  until  you  have  had  training. 
Now  that  sounds  harsh,  doesn't  it,  little  girl!  But 
I  don't  mean  it  so;  I  believe  that,  though  the  ex- 
pense will,  of  course,  be  considerable,  you  will 
more  than  repay  us  for  the  outlay,  and  we  shall  be 
more  than  glad  for  the  privilege  of  advancing  you 
in  life.'; 

"Believe  me,  I  am  not  ungrateful,  but  it  doesn't 
seem  right  to  me  to  take  so  much  from  you,"  said 
Hattie;  "but  I  am  so  alone  in  the  world  that  I 
don't  know  what  to  do.  Oh,  mother,"  she  said  im- 
pulsively, throwing  herself  in  Mrs.  Courtright's 
arms,  "tell  me  what  to  do.  I'll  do  just  as  you  say." 
14 


210  UNCLE  CARL 

"There,  there,  little  girl.  Don't  you  give  way 
so,"  said  the  lady,  gently  patting  her  shoulder.  "All 
is  coming  out  just  right,  and  you  are  not  to  worry 
one  bit.  You  will  have  the  education  that  you,  I 
know,  long  for,  and  it  is  the  privilege  of  love  to  do 
for  you.  You  are  to  be  as  my  own  daughter,  and  I 
am  going  to  see  that  you  have  what  is  right." 

"Now  see  here,"  said  Englewood,  "I  don't  want 
any  fighting  about  this,  but  I  don't  propose  to  be 
left  out  of  this  work.  I  claim  the  right  of  discovery; 
not  to  own  my  find,  but  to  take  some  part  in  its  de- 
velopment." 

"But,  Mr.  Englewood,"  Mrs.  Courtright  ob- 
jected, "you  have  already  done  so  much,  and  I  know 
that  you  have  other  cares  that  must  be  heavy  burdens 
to  you.  Why  can't  I  do  this  thing?" 

"I'll  tell  you  what  I'll  do,"  said  Carl.  "I'll  leave 
this  question  for  Miss  Braton  to  decide.  She  is  really 
the  one  most  interested  and  should  have  a  voice  in 
the  matter." 

"I  am  willing,"  said  Mrs.  Courtright,  "for  I  am 
sure  that  she  will  let  her  adopted  mother  have  her 
way  in  this  matter,"  and  she  pressed  the  girl  to  her 
affectionately. 

"Well,  how  is  it,  little  girl?"  said  Carl.  "If  a 
man  finds  a  good  book  in  an  out  of  the  way  corner, 
with  a  tattered  cover,  and  sends  it  to  a  friend  to 
hold  for  him  until  he  can  have  it  rebound  so  that 
others  may  read  and  enjoy  the  volume  without  in- 
jury to  or  loss  of  its  contents,  has  he  not  the  right  to 
complete  his  plans  in  spite  of  the  friend's  protests 
that  he  is  so  in  love  with  the  volume  that  he  wants 
it  himself?" 

"It  is  rather  a  hard  position  you  put  me  in,"  said 
Hattie  musingly;  "but  it  seems  to  me,  that  if  a  per- 


UNCLE  CARL  211 

son  transplants  a  young  sapling  from  a  swamp  to 
the  solid  ground,  it  is  his  right  to  see  that  it  has  the 
nourishment  it  needs.  Not  that  I  choose  between 
you,"  she  added  hastily,  "for  I  am  not  sure  that  I 
do  right  to  take  from  either  of  you.  But  I  certainly 
think,  as,  had  it  not  been  for  Mr.  Englewood's  kind- 
ness, I  would  not  be  here,  his  wishes  should  have 
more  weight  than  those  of  any  one  else." 

"I  knew  that  you  would  settle  it  right,"  said 
Englewood.  "You  see,  Mrs.  Courtright,  this  old 
sinner  wins  in  spite  of  you." 

"Well,  she's  going  to  have  her  home  with  me, 
anyway,"  said  Mrs.  Courtright  decidedly. 

"I'm  glad  of  that,"  said  Carl.  "For,  in  truth, 
I  could  not  do  for  her  as  you  can.  We  will  call  it 
decided  then  in  just  this  way,  shall  we  not?  Miss 
Braton  is  to  make  her  home  with  you.  After  mature 
reflection  her  studies  shall  be  decided  upon,  and  she 
shall  have  every  opportunity  to  acquire  a  finished 
education.  Whatever  expense  is  necessary  outside 
of  the  home  you  offer,  it  is  to  be  my  privilege  to 
meet." 

"Only  with  this  exception,  Mr.  Englewood,"  said 
Hattie — "I  shall  try  to  earn  something  myself,  and 
whatever  I  can  do  to  lighten  your  burden  is  to  be  my 
privilege,  is  it  not?" 

"Your  own  highest  good  is  to  come  first,"  said 
Carl,  "and  I  shall  not  put  you  under  any  obligations 
to  me  that  it  is  not  your  right  to  cancel.  I  only  ask 
that  the  tree  grow  freely  and  strongly  toward  the 
Eternal  Good." 

"Amen,  my  friend!"  said  Mrs.  Courtright.  "I 
believe  that  you  are  right.  Only,  I  did  want  to  do 
it  all  myself. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

As  Mr.  Englewood  purposed  leaving  on  his 
Southern  trip  within  two  or  three  days,  and  as  his 
absence  would  be  of  indefinite  length,  it  was  thought 
best  to  leave  all  details  of  Hattie's  immediate  future 
in  the  hands  of  Courtright  and  his  wife;  their  judg- 
ment; to  decide  all  matters  in  regard  to  the  girl's  edu- 
cation, Carl  only  stipulating  that  she  be  given  every 
opportunity  that  she  was  able  to  improve.  The  con- 
versation then  drifted  on  to  other  topics,  and  then 
slackened  as  each  became  absorbed  in  quiet  enjoy- 
ment of  the  beautiful  day.  They  were  aroused  by 
the  scurry  of  feet  as  the  children  rushed  toward 
them,  Arthur  holding  the  stem  of  a  leaf  of  Virginia 
creeper^ 

"Oh,  mama,"  he  cried,  "see  what  a  funny  worm. 
It's  got  rice  stuck  all  over  its  back." 

"Ugh!  take  it  away,  Arthur,"  said  Mrs.  Court- 
right  with  a  shudder.  "It's  one  of  those  green  ivy- 
worms.  I  can't  bear  such  crawly  things." 

"But,  mama,"  chimed  in  Mary,  "what  does  it  do 
with  the  rice?  It  looks  so  funny." 

"I  don't  know,  children.  It's  just  a  nasty  green 
worm,"  said  the  lady.  "Don't  come  near  me  with  it. 
Do  throw  it  away,  child." 

Hattie,  who  had  been  looking  at  the  curiosity, 
here  remarked,  "It  is  a  strange  looking  creature. 
Did  you  ever  see  the  like,  Mr.  Englewood?" 

Carl  asked  Arthur  to  bring  it  to  him.  It  was  the 
large  green  larvae  of  the  Sphingoid  moth;  but  at- 
tached to  its  back  were  perhaps  fifty  small  white  co- 
coons, looking — as  the  children  said — like  grains  of 


UNCLE  CARL  213 

rice.  After  examining  it  Mr.  Englewood  answered, 
"Why,  yes,  this  is  a  very  interesting  phenomenon. 
Come,  children,  and  I'll  give  you  a  bit  of  curious  in- 
formation." As  they  gathered  about  him  he  con- 
tinued, "You  know  how  the  butterflies  come,  of 
course?" 

"Yes,"  said  Mary,  "out  of  cocoons." 
"That's  right,  but  there  is  more  to  it  than  that," 
said  Carl.     "First  there  is  the  egg  which  the  mother 
butterfly  lays.     After  a  while  it  hatches  out  as   a 
little  grub  or  worm.     This  is  called  the  larva.     It 
grows    rapidly,    eating    greedily    its    proper    food, 
until — when   it   has   reached  maturity — it   spins   its 
little  nest  or  cocoon,  sealing  itself  up  tight ;   and  then 
after  a  time  it  emerges  as  a  beautiful  butterfly.     Not 
all    species    spin    cocoons,    however.      Some    kinds 
change  into  a  chrysalis  without  the  silky  nest.     Now 
this   green   worm — its    family   has    a    queer   name: 
Philampelus,  or  Vine-feeder — is  the  larva  from  the 
egg  of  a  large  moth.     It  feeds  on  the  vine  until  it  is 
ready  to  change  into  a  chrysalis,  when  it  would  de- 
velop into  a  moth,  just  as  the  butterfly's  larva  does. 
There  is  another  form  of  life,  however;   a  very  small 
fly  with  a  long  name.     I  forget  its  name  now,  but  it 
will  come  to  me  later,  perhaps.     This  fly  lays  its  eggs 
in  the  larva  or  worm.     The  eggs  are  very  small  and 
are  deposited  in  the  worm  through  a  small  needle- 
like  projection  at  the  end  of  the  little  fly,  called  the 
ovipo-siter.     These  eggs  hatch  out  in  the  worm,  as 
little  white  grubs,  and  feed  inside  of  the  big  worm's 
body.     In    due    time    these    grubs    become    strong 
enough  to  eat  their  way  through  the  skin  of  the 
worm, — though  they  are  so  small  that  they  seldom 
kill  it  in  so  doing, — and  attaching  themselves  to  its 
back  spin  their  cocoons;    and  after  about  two  weeks 


2i4  UNCLE  CARL 

appear  again  as  fully  developed  flies,  like  their 
mother.  So  these  things  that  look  like  rice  arc  really 
cocoons.  If  you  will  take  it  to  the  house  and  put  a 
glass  tumbler  over  it,  you  may,  if  you  watch  it  care- 
fully for  a  few  days,  see  the  little  fellows  come  out 
of  their  nests.  It  is  really  a  very  interesting  study." 

"Why,  that  is  curious,"  said  Mrs.  Courtright,  as, 
her  repugnance  overcome  by  her  interest,  she  asked 
Arthur  to  bring  the  worm  to  her  that  she  might 
examine  it.  "I  have  always  had  such  a  horror  of 
crawling  things,  that  I  forget,  sometimes,  that  they 
are  a  part  of  God's  world.  Yes,  take  it  into  the 
house,  children,  and  put  a  glass  over  it.  I  shall  be 
quite  interested  in  watching  it  with  you." 

As  the  children  moved  away,  Arthur  said,  "I  tell 
you,  Mary,  our  Uncle  Carl  knows  pretty  near  every- 
thing, doesn't  he?" 

"Yes,  siree,"  replied  the  little  sister.  "He's  just 
the  bestest,  most  knowingest  chum  ever  was." 

The  older  ones  laughed,  Hattie  remarking,  "You 
have  staunch  little  friends  there,  Mr.  Englewood." 

"Yes,  I  think  so,"  answered  he,  "and  I  am  proud 
of  it.  The  love  of  the  little  folk  is  very  precious  to 
me." 

"I  almost  think  Arthur  is  right,"  said  Mrs.  Court- 
right,  "and  you  'know  pretty  near  everything.' 
How  did  you  ever  pick  up  so  much.  You  are  con- 
stantly opening  my  eyes  to  things  I  never  knew  or 
suspected." 

"The  study  of  biology  was  always  an  interesting 
one  to  me,"  replied  Englewood,  "and  during  my 
youth  I  was  a  somewhat  superficial  student  of  the 
Darwinian  theory  of  evolution.  Such  forms  of  de- 
velopment as  that  we  have  just  seen  are  not  at  all 


UNCLE  CARL  215 

uncommon.  I  could  perhaps  tell  you  some  inter- 
esting things  about  insect  life  if  you  care  to  hear  it." 

"Indeed  we  would,"  said  both  ladies  in  a  breath; 
and  Englewood  held  their  attention  closely  for  an 
hour  discoursing  on  the  various  forms  and  habits  of 
the  lower  life-forms.  He  was  a  good  talker,  and 
had  the  rare  faculty  of  telling  scientific  truths  in  plain, 
simple  language,  that  could  be  comprehended  easily. 
At  the  same  time,  he  avoided  prosiness  by  vivid  de- 
scriptions of  unusual  forms  of  development,  and 
making  the  constant  warfare  which  proved  the  right 
of  the  "fittest"  to  survive  seem  very  real  to  his 
hearers;  suggesting  new  lines  of  thought;  stimu- 
lating interest  in  further  researches — in  short,  mak- 
ing his  hearers  think  as  well  as  to  hear.  And  thus 
the  morning  passed.  After  the  mid-day  meal,  En- 
glewood went  to  the  city  for  a  final  talk  with  Court- 
right,  ere  he  crossed  the  lake ;  returning  so  late  in  the 
evening  that  he  retired  at  once  to  his  room.  The 
next  day  was  in  much  a  repetition  of  his  first  one  at 
Courtright's  home,  and  on  the  second  day  his  host 
returned,  having  accomplished  all  that  he  had  gone 
for. 

"The  sooner  you  get  started  the  better,  I  think," 
he  said  to  Englewood,  after  telling  of  his  success. 
"I  don't  want  to  drive  you  away;  indeed,  I  wish  that 
you  could  see  it  right  to  make  your  home  with  us 
always;  but  I  am  suspicious  of  Stanhope.  He  has, 
I  think,  something  up  his  sleeve,  and  the  sooner  this 
whole  thing  is  straightened  out  the  better.  By  the 
way,  though,  I  have  learned  why  he  is  in  such  haste 
to  close  up  the  estate." 

"Indeed;   why  is  it?"  asked  Carl. 

"He  is  interested  in  the  sale  of  the  Pheasant  mine, 
with  Stuart.  Not  knowing  just  how  much  cash 


216  UNCLE  CARL 

would  be  required,  and  being  short  himself,  Stuart 
took  him  in  as  a  partner.  Stanhope  gave  his  note 
for  $10,000  and  Stuart  discounted  it  to  raise  funds 
for  the  scheme ;  and  now,  unless  Stanhope  raises  the 
cash,  Stuart  as  indorser  must  take  up  the  paper  and 
your  fellow  trustee  will  lose  his  interest.  He  is  quite 
worried  about  it;  but  as  he  has  not  put  up  any  cash 
himself,  I  shall  not  be  at  all  sorry  to  see  him  barred 
out  of  the  company." 

"Nor  I  either!"  ejaculated  Englewood.  "Stuart 
gave  me  to  understand  that  he  had  a  partner,  though 
I  did  not  know  who  it  was.  But  of  course,  with  this 
estate  in  shape  so  that  he  cannot  touch  it  for  the 
present,  Stanhope  will  have  to  look  elsewhere  for 
his  cash.  By  George,  though,  Courtright!  I  am 
not,  I  think,  unduly  suspicious  as  a  rule,  but  he  must 
have  been  calculating  on  this  estate  before  my  ward's 
death.  Could  he  have  had  any  hand  in  that,  do  you 
think?" 

"You've  struck  it,  Englewood,"  said  the  lawyer. 
"I  didn't  want  to  suggest  it  myself,  but  it  is  to  clear 
this  whole  thing  up  that  I  so  want  you  to  hurry  your 
journey.  You  know — I  think  I  told  you — that  the 
autopsy  showed  the  presence  of  arsenic;  and  that  it 
was  administered  by  the  man  or  men  with  whom  your 
ward  was  having  her  "good  time"  is  strongly  prob- 
able. I  am  impressed  with  the  suspicion  that  they 
may  have  been  tools  of  Stanhope's." 

"Could  he  possibly  be  such  a  fiend  as  that,  do  you 
think?"  asked  Carl.  "I  find  it  hard  to  believe  it. 
Still,  I'll  start  South  to-morrow.  Has  he  any  sus- 
picion that  I  am  still  living?" 

"No,  he  feels  assured  of  your  death,"  Courtright 
replied.  "However,  it  makes  but  little  difference  so 
far  as  I  can  see  now,  whether  he  knows  the  truth  or 


UNCLE  CARL  217 

not.  I  didn't  see  Jenkins.  Stanhope  said  he  had 
gone  to  St.  Louis;  but  I  learned  that  he  is,  without 
question,  the  same  man  you  so  gently  laid  your  hand 
on  some  years  ago.  It  will  do  no  harm  to  keep  him 
in  the  dark  for  a  while  though.  They  may  be  less 
careful  if  they  think  that  no  interested  eyes  are 
watching  them;  and  if  there  is  any  ground  for  our 
suspicions,  I  would  take  a  great  satisfaction  in  un- 
veiling their  crookedness." 

"Well,  we'll  sift  it  to  the  bottom,  anyhow,"  said 
Englewood.  "I  shall  stop  first  at  my  ward's  old 
school,  and  then  make  a  bee-line  for  Florida." 

The  two  friends  were  sitting  on  the  porch  enjoy- 
ing their  cigars  as  they  were  thus  laying  their  plans, 
when  they  were  startled  by  a  scream  from  one  of  the 
children,  and  then  Arthur's  excited  voice,  calling, 
"Oh,  mama,  papa,  come  quick!  Uncle  Carl! 
Uncle  Carl !"  Rushing  into  the  house  and  expecting 
that  some  catastrophe  had  occurred,  they  found  the 
youngsters  dancing  with  childish  excitement  around 
a  table  on  which  a  glass  cover  was  placed.  Mrs. 
Courtright  and  Hattie  rushed  in  at  the  same  moment. 
"What  is  it?"  they  exclaimed.  "What  in  the  world 
is  the  matter?" 

"Oh,  mama,  the  Flamplusse's  cocoons  is  all 
breaking  open,  just  as  Uncle  Carl  said  they  would," 
cried  Arthur. 

"Is  that  all?"  said  his  mother.  "My,  what  a  start 
you  gave  me !  I  thought  you  must  have  broken  your 
neck,  at  least." 

"But,  mother,"  said  Hattie,  who  was  looking 
through  the  glass,  "this  is  interesting;  they  are  really 
breaking  their  cocoons."  All  gathered  about  to 
watch  the  curious  phenomenon.  Many  little  flies 
were  buzzing  under  the  glass,  the  green  larva  ner- 


2i 8  UNCLE  CARL 

vously  twitching  his  head  from  side  to  side  as  the 
insects  irritated  him ;  and  as  they  watched  closely  the 
end  of  a  cocoon  would  be  pushed  aside,  like  a  small 
cap,  and  out  would  crawl  a  fully  developed  fly. 

"Ah,"  said  Englewood,  straightening  up,  and 
throwing  out  his  arm  grandiloquently,  "the  name 
comes  to  me  now.  Ladies  and  gentlemen,  I  have  the 
honor  of  introducing  to  you  the  illustrious  Micro- 
gaster  fly,  of  the  family  of  Ichneumones  adscite,  or 
Braconidae." 

"Whew!"  exclaimed  Courtright,  "that's  a  pretty 
heavy  burden  for  so  small  an  insect  to  bear.  But 
what  is  all  of  this,  anyhow?" 

"Why,  papa,"  said  Mary,  "don't  you  know? 
This  is  a  Flamplus,  and  he  gets  eggs  laid  in  him  and 
they  turns  into  worms,  and  the  worms  turns  into 
rice, — I  mean  into  cocoons, — and  then  the — what 
Uncle  Carl  interdooced  us  to,  comes  out.  Ain't  it 
funny?" 

They  all  laughed  at  this  lucid  explanation,  and 
then  Carl  explained  the  phenomenon  more  at  length 
to  Courtright.  The  older  people,  finally  leaving  the 
children  with  their  interesting  discovery,  strolled  out 
over  the  fresh  green  lawn,  where  Carl,  after  musing 
a  few  moments  asked: 

"Did  it  ever  occur  to  you  people  to  ask  what  is  the 
ultimate  purpose  of  the  lower  forms  of  life?  Or 
rather,  what  is  the  ultimate  thing  that  nature  seeks  to 
preserve  in  a  given  form  ?" 

"I  don't  think  that  I  understand  you,"  said  Court- 
right.  "What  are  you  driving  at?" 

"Well,  the  interesting  development  we  have  been 
watching.  Which  is  the  individual?  There  is  the 
egg,  the  larva,  the  fly,  and  again  the  egg;  but  what 
is  the  ultimate  entity?  We  have  life  in  other  forms; 


UNCLE  CARL  219 

the  plant  produces  the  flower,  the  flower  contains  the 
seed,  the  seed  the  germ  of  a  new  plant.  The  pur- 
pose of  each  seems  to  be  to  provide  for  the  contin- 
uance of  the  eternal  routine.  Each  form  of  devel- 
opment is  part  of  the  whole,  but  as  an  individual 
entity,  a  finished  entity,  apparently  non-existent. 
The  grub,  the  butterfly,  the  egg;  which  is  the  entity, 
the  thing,  the  real  being?" 

"I  am  afraid  you  are  asking  questions  that  are 
unanswerable,"  said  the  lawyer,  "though  they  never 
occurred  to  me  before.  Doubtless  the  Creator  has 
a  purpose  to  fulfill,  but  what  that  ultimate  purpose  is 
is  not  for  our  finite  minds  to  discover." 

"An  easy  way  to  excuse  our  ignorance,"  said  Carl; 
"but  if  we  let  all  questions  rest  in  that  way  there 
would  be  little  progression.  What  I  am  trying  to 
get  at  is,  'what  is  a  thing?'  Scientists  speak  of  the 
propagation  of  species,  but  what  is  species?  What 
is  the  real  ultimate — the  germ  that  produces  the 
plant,  the  plant  that  produces  the  flower,  or  the 
flower  that  produces  the  germ?" 

"Why  confine  yourself  to  plant  life?"  suggested 
Courtright.  "You  will  find  the  same  enigma  in 
human  life.  Man's  physical  life  is  analogous  to  the 
plant  life;  he  lives,  brings  forth  young  with  power 
in  their  turn  to  continue  the  parent  stock,  and  dies. 
Unless  the  intelligence  of  man  is  part  of  the  Eternal 
Intelligence,  implanted  in  the  human  frame  as  in  a 
vehicle  to  carry  out  certain  work,  then  man  is  no 
more  an  entity  than  the  plant." 

"True,"  said  Englewood,  "and  the  intelligence  of 
plant  life — and  I  can  give  instances  tending  to  prove 
my  inference — seems  to-  be  the  same  in  kind,  though 
of  lesser  degree  than  in  man." 

"Oh,  you  men  1"  said  Mrs.  Courtright.     "You  are 


220  UNCLE  CARL 

always  wanting  to  know  the  unknowable.  I  have 
felt  some  of  the  thoughts  you  put  in  words,  but  what 
is  the  use  of  striving  after  knowledge  that  would  do 
us  no  good  if  we  attained  it.  When  we  search  the 
Infinite  for  answers  to  such  questions  as  you  ask, 
we  are  lost  as  in  a  maze;  and  crying  for  light,  are 
answered  only  by  a  greater  longing.  Yet  that  long- 
ing is  softened  by  the  intuitive  parent-love  which 
impels  us  to  act  our  part  in  the  continuance  of  our 
species.  What  the  purpose,  what  the  end,  is  sealed 
in  the  darkness  of  eternity,  and  our  only  torch  is 
faith  in  the  goodness  of  God.  We  wait  for  further 
light,  but  we  cannot  command  it.  Love  bids  us  labor 
on,  and  through  our  children's  eyes  we  may  see  the 
Wisdom  of  the  Infinite." 

"Bravo!  my  dear;  bravo!"  said  Courtright.  "I 
hope  you  have  squelched  Englewood.  He  makes  me 
feel  very  small  when  he  philosophizes." 

"No,  she  hasn't  squelched  me,"  said  Englewood; 
"but  I  am  subdued  by  the  very  magnitude  of  the 
principles  involved  in  even  the  simplest  forms  of  life. 
You  remember,  do  you  not,  the  lines  on  a  flower  in 
Tennyson's  "The  Voice  and  the  Peak"? 

"No,  I  do  not  recall  them  now,"  said  Courtright. 
"What  are  they?" 

"I  think  that  I  know  them,"  said  Hattie  shyly; 
"I  have  always  thought  them  beautiful,  and  they 
mean  so  much,"  and  in  a  low,  sweet  voice,  she  re- 
cited : 

"  'Flower   in   the   crannied   wall, 
I  pluck  you  out  of  the  cranny; 
I  hold  you  here,  root  and  all,  in  my  hand 
Little  flower, — but  if  I  could  understand 
What  you  are,  root  and  all,  and  all  in  all 
I  should  know  what  God  and  man  is.' " 


UNCLE  CARL  221 

They  were  all  silent  for  a  few  moments,  for  Hat- 
tie's  expressive  rendition  of  the  lines  seemed  to  give 
a  force  to  the  words  that  all  felt ;  a  force  that  com- 
pelled them  to  recognize  their  impotence  in  the  face 
of  the  Eternal.  Then  said  Carl: 

"And  so  the  poet  with  one  little  word  shows  us  the 
futility  of  our  longing.  'If  I  could  understand.' 
But  I  cannot,  and  therefore  save  as  Hope  and  her 
hand-maiden  Faith  shall  show  me  the  way  through 
the  darkness,  I  must  remain  in  ignorance  until  such 
time  as  Law  shall  say,  'Let  there  be  light.'  ' 


CHAPTER  XXII 

Two  days  prior  to  Courtright's  appearance  before 
the  probate  court,  as  narrated  in  our  last  chapter, 
three  men  were  seated  about  a  table  in  a  private 
"stall"  of  a  saloon  at  Kaloma.  They  were  the  two 
scoundrels  already  known  to  our  readers  as  Stanhope 
and  Jenkins,  and  a  vicious-looking  man  of  some  forty 
years.  We  shall  not  meet  the  latter  again  in  this 
history,  and  therefore  shall  content  ourself  with 
simply  describing  him  as  one  who  carried  in  his  face 
the  marks  of  a  life  of  villainy  and  dissipation. 

He  was  just  finishing  a  recital  of  "the  job,"  as  we 
join  their  company: 

"And  so  the  brat  left,  and  started  for  home  mad 
as  a  tarantula.  But  she  had  got  her  dose  all  right. 
I  hung  about  until  I  heered  she  died  a  few  hours 
after  without  givin'  me  away,  and  then  I  skee- 
daddled.  I  hear'n  sence  that  the  coroner  cut  her 
open  an'  found  she  hed  be'n  eatin'  arsenic.  Of 
course,  it  was  a  d — d  sight  pleasanter  fer  me  to 
vamoose,  even  if  they  didn't  suspect  me.  So  now 
it's  up  to  you  to  fork  over  the  swag." 

Stanhope  drew  a  roll  of  bills  from  his  pocket,  and 
shoving  it  across  the  table  said,  "There's  your  stuff. 
I  guess  you  did  your  job  all  right.  But  it  would  be 
just  as  well  if  you  should  turn  up  on  the  other  side 
of  the  ocean  just  as  quick  as  you  can.  There  is  no 
telling  what  the  girl  might  have  said  to  compromise 
you,  and  those  Southern  fellows  are  regular  hounds 
when  they  get  on  the  trail  of  a  suspect.  Of  course, 
Englewood  being  out  of  the  way,  there  is  no  one 
having  enough  interest  in  the  matter  to  push  it  except 


UNCLE  CARL  223 

myself,  and  I  shan't  be  very  clever  in  finding  the  man 
who  put  my  dear  cousin  to  sleep.  Still,  its  better  to 
be  on  the  safe  side." 

"Oh,  I'll  make  a  sneak  all  right,  all  right.  I'm 
goin'  to  take  the  Chicago  boat  to-night,  and  then  it's 
back  to  the  wild  and  wooly  for  yours  truly.  And 
now,  pards,  if  'tain't  causin'  you  too  much  sorrer, 
I'll  bid  you  adoo." 

So  saying,  he  slouched  out  of  the  room.  We  will 
pause  here  to  say  that  a  man  somewhat  the  worse  for 
liquor  was  peering  over  the  stern  of  a  trans-lake 
steamer  that  night.  There  was  a  sudden  cry  of 
"Man  overboard!"  The  steamer  was  stopped  and 
boats  were  lowered,  but  no  trace  of  the  missing  man 
was  found;  nor  did  the  "pards"  ever  again  hear  of 
their  fellow  in  crime. 

"Now,  Jenkins,"  said  Stanhope,  after  the  villain's 
departure,  "I  received  a  letter  from  'Liz'  yesterday. 
She  had  just  heard  of  the  girl's  death,  and  is  crazy 
over  it.  Says  the  girl  was  her  own  daughter  and 
she  wants  to  know  all  about  the  affair;  and  also 
wants  the  body  brought  to  St.  Louis.  Tells  how  she 
loved  her  child  and  all  that  nonsense.  I  want  you 
to  take  the  next  train  to  St.  Louis  and  fix  things  up. 
She  tells  me  that  if  we  don't  restore  the  child's  body 
to  her,  she'll  go  after  it  herself.  You  must  prevent 
that  at  any  cost;  for  if  she  goes  down  there  in  one 
of  her  tantrums  she  is  liable  to  tell  enough  to  get  us 
all  behind  the  bars." 

"Aw,  h— 1 !  I'll  fix  old  Liz  all  right,"  said  the 
worthy  Jenkins.  "I'll  twist  her  round  my  little 
finger.  You  needn't  worry  a  d — d  bit.  Jest  put  up 
the  dough,  though.  I  ain't  goin'  without  the  stuff 
first." 

"I'm   pretty   hard   pinched   now,    Jenkins,"    said 


224  UNCLE  CARL 

Stanhope.  "That  cursed  Courtright  has  taken  steps 
to  secure  a  two  month's  delay  in  the  probate  court. 
I  don't  know  what  the  whelp  is  so  interested  for. 
It's  nothing  in  his  pocket.  However,  it  means  a  lot 
to  me,  for  if  I  don't  raise  the  money  for  Stuart  within 
ten  days  I'll  lose  my  interest  in  the  mine;  and  he 
writes  me  that  the  deal  is  a  sure  go.  Hang  it  all ! 
Just  as  it  seemed  all  easy  sailing,  that  infernal  lawyer 
must  put  in  his  oar,  and  spoil  the  whole  thing. 
However,  I'll  have  a  couple  of  hundred  for  you  in 
the  morning." 

"Now  see  here,  Muster  Stanhope,"  said  Jenkins, 
"you'll  make  thet  just  five  hundred,  er  I  won't  go, 
see.  You've  put  all  uv  the  dirty  work  on  me,  an'  I 
hain't  seen  the  color  of  your  dough  fer  months. 
You're  gitten  thousands  out  uv  it,  er  will  w'en  it's  all 
fixed.  I  do  the  reeskiest  part  of  it  an'  its  time  I 
seen  some  of  the  stuff." 

"But,  Jenkins,"  replied  Stanhope,  "I'm  pretty  near 
broke;  and  unless  I  make  that  note  good,  I'll  get 
nothing  out  of  the  mine." 

"Wull,  the  mine  hain't  cost  you  anythin'  yet;  an' 
as  I  don't  git  anythin'  out  uv  ut  anyhow,  I  don't  see 
no  cussed  reason  why  I  should  help  you  out  uv  your 
scrape.  You'll  git  the  Cramer  dough  all  right  any- 
how, after  a  bit;  'nd  I  want  somethin'  now  to 
sweeten  the  pot.  I'll  fix  Liz  if  you  fix  me — see?" 

"But,  five  hundred,  Jenkins,"  pleaded  Stanhope; 
"I  don't  see  how  I  can  raise  it  at  once,  and  you  ought 
to  be  on  your  way  now." 

"Aw,  h — 1!  you  kin  raise  it  if  you  want  tuh,"  said 
Jenkins.  "Sell  some  of  them  sparklers  uv  yourn,  if 
ther  hain't  no  other  way.  D — n  it,  Stanhope,  you 
kin  afford  it.  If  it  hadn't  been  fur  me,  you'd  a  had 
Englewood  here  now." 


UNCLE  CARL  225 

"Englewood!"  said  Stanhope.  "So  you  did  have  a 
hand  in  his  death,  did  you?" 

"I  don't  say  as  I  did,  an'  I  don't  say  as  I  didn't," 
said  Jenkins.  "I  seen  him  drop,  an'  'twan't  my  fault 
that  the  cage  wasn't  strong  'nuff  to  lift  the —  Aw, 
that's  none  uv  your  bizness  anyhow ;  I  had  a  reason 
'nuff  for  a  grudge  against  the  d — d  cuss." 

"See  here,  Jenkins,"  said  Stanhope,  "I  had  sus- 
picions that  you  had  a  hand  in  that  affair.  Now  I 
am  sure  of  it.  But  you  and  I  have  reason  to  hang 
together  now.  You  know  enough  to  make  me  a  lot 
of  trouble,  but  I  suspect  enough  to  hang  you.  It 
wouldn't  pay  either  of  us  to  split.  Now  I'll  give  you 
just  two  hundred  dollars  to  fix  Liz.  When  I  succeed 
in  getting  what  I  am  after  I'll  make  it  two  thousand. 
But  meanwhile  I  need  your  help,  and  you  need  my 
silence." 

"What  the  h — 1  do  yuh  mean  by  that?"  exclaimed 
Jenkins.  "Yuh  wouldn't  dare  to  peach,  would  yuh?" 

"You've  driven  me  to  a  corner,"  said  Stanhope. 
"You'll  do  as  I  say  or,  yes,  I'll  peach.  If  Liz  isn't 
silenced  I'll  get  nothing  from  the  estate,  for  she'll 
give  the  whole  thing  away,  and  then  the  court  can 
tie  up  the  whole  estate,  while  searching  for  the  real 
heir.  I  take  it  that  Cramer's  daughter  has  gone  to 
the  bad,  and  will  never  show  up;  but  still,  Court- 
right  can  compel  a  complete  tieup  of  the  estate  for — 
seven  years,  I  think,  is  the  limit  of  time  that  a  person 
must  remain  unheard  of  before  he  can  be  declared 
legally  dead.  So  you  see  it's  as  much  to  your  interest 
as  to  mine  that  we  work  together  for  the  present? 

"Wull,  I  don't  know  but  what  there's  some  reason 
in  what  yuh  say,"  said  Jenkins,  as  he  thoughtfully 
ejected  a  stream  of  tobacco  juice  on  the  floor.  "But, 
15 


226  UNCLE  CARL 

cuss  it !  ef  yuh  play  me  any  dirty  trick  about  what  yuh 
suspect  about  Englewood,  I'll  see  thet  you  git  a  dose 
of  the  sheriff's  medicine,  too." 

Having  thus  reached  an  agreement  the  two  pro- 
ceeded to  plan  further  details  of  their  scheme;  and 
then  after  a  final  bottle  each  went  his  way. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

The  day  is  closing,  and  night  with  her  star- 
bespangled  mantle  is  hovering  near  a  quiet  little  land- 
scape in  western  Florida,  ready  to  enfold  it  in  her 
solemn  embrace  when  the  crimson  afterglow  of  the 
God  of  Day  shall  have  faded  from  the  horizon. 
The  birds  are  chirping  their  good-night  melodies; 
the  drowsy  hum  of  a  belated  bee  or  so  is  heard  as  he 
returns  to  his  honey-home;  while  from  the  distance 
come  the  first  notes  of  frog-dom  as  the  master- 
croakers  open  their  orchestral  program;  and,  blend- 
ing through  all,  the  murmuring  sighs  of  the  lazily 
lapping  waves  accentuate  the  peaceful  harmonies  of 
the  holy  hour.  On  a  rustic  seat,  overlooking  the 
blue  waters  of  the  Gulf,  sat  Carl  Englewood  and  his 
old  Sabbath-school  friend,  Mrs.  Hazelton.  Engle- 
wood had  arrived  in  the  early  afternoon,  and  the  two 
friends,  after  a  luncheon,  had  adjourned  to  this  at- 
tractive outlook.  The  information  that  had  been 
given  to  Carl,  both  in  Nashville  and  here,  had  been 
very  painful  to  him ;  for  it  had  shown  him  much  for 
which  he  could  not,  he  thought,  blame  himself  with 
sufficient  severity.  And  now,  as  he  sat  brooding 
beside  his  quiet  companion,  the  impressive  chorus  of 
approaching  night  seemed  to  insistently  chide  him  for 
a  failure  in  a  manifest  duty.  The  daughter  of  his 
old  friend  Cramer,  left  to  his  guardianship,  was  now, 
for  aught  he  knew,  a  wanderer — homeless  and 
friendless.  What  had  become  of  her  it  was  im- 
possible to  surmise.  The  matron  of  the  school  in 
which  she  had  been  placed  by  her  father  had  seen  her 
safely  to  the  depot,  and  as  the  train  was  late  had  left 


228  UNCLE  CARL 

her  to  return  to  her  interrupted  duties,  confident  that 
the  girl  would  be  cared  for  by  Mrs.  Hazelton  on  her 
arrival.  From  the  matron  Carl  had  secured  a  small 
picture  of  his  ward,  taken  with  a  group  of  her  school 
associates;  and  she  was  described  as  a  bright,  pretty, 
clear-skinned  little  miss,  with  dark  brown  hair  and 
eyes,  and  a  winning,  though  somewhat  independent 
manner. 

There  was  no  question  but  what  the  girl  whom 
Mrs.  Hazelton  had  taken  with  her,  and  who  had 
been  placed  in  her  charge  by  a  man  of  uncouth  man- 
ners whom  she  had  thought  to  be  an  employee  of  the 
school,  was  not  the  girl  described  by  the  matron. 
Mrs.  Hazelton  was  emphatic  that  the  child  she  had 
taken  was  not  the  original  of  the  picture  Englewood 
had  secured.  She  also  described  her  as  far  from 
agreeing  with  the  physical  characteristics  of  Cramer's 
child,  as  described  by  the  matron;  being  a  pro- 
nounced blonde,  blue  eyes,  auburn  hair,  and  a  badly 
freckled  face.  The  terrible  mistake  was  plain;  but 
how  to  right  it  was  not  so  clear.  It  was  plain,  too, 
that  there  had  been  some  plot  to  effect  this  miscar- 
riage, and  also  that  his  plans  must  have  been  known 
to  the  plotter,  in  order  to  carry  it  out.  As  Engle- 
wood had  informed  only  Mrs.  Hazelton  and  Court- 
right  of  his  intentions,  it  was  difficult  to  connect  Stan- 
hope with  the  affair;  though,  his  suspicions  now  fully 
aroused,  Carl  believed  it  possible  that,  having  per- 
haps overheard  enough  to  conjecture  the  probable 
program,  that  scamp  had  had  a  hand  in  it.  It 
was  certain,  however,  that  he  must  use  every  effort 
to  find  his  ward,  and  he  therefore  purposed  returning 
at  once  to  Nashville,  taking  up  the  work  from  there. 
He  dispatched  a  message  to  Courtright,  which  he 
would  follow  the  next  day  with  a  letter  containing 


UNCLE  CARL  229 

affidavits  and  particulars  that  could  be  used  in  pre- 
venting, for  the  present,  the  transfer  of  the  property 
by  the  Probate  Court. 

To  a  man  like  Englewood, — ever  striving  to  per- 
form his  duties  faithfully, — the  knowledge  that  his 
failure  personally  to  see  that  his  ward  was  cared  for 
may  have  resulted  in  irretrievable  disaster  to  the 
daughter  of  his  old  friend,  was  ground  for  most 
severe  self-upbraidings.  To  be  sure,  he  did  what  he 
thought  best  at  the  time,  and  considering  that  his 
financial  condition  had  been  far  from  easy,  he  had 
done  well.  Still,  there  were  possibilities  that  he  had 
not  foreseen,  details  that  he  might  have  attended  to ; 
and  he  was  in  a  very  despondent  mood  when  Mrs. 
Hazelton  interrupted  his  reverie. 

"Cheer  up,  my  boy,"  she  said.  "One  would  think 
that  you  had  lost  your  last  friend.  This  has,  indeed, 
been  a  most  unfortunate  affair,  and  one  for  which  I 
consider  that  I  am  much  to  blame.  Still  it  is  not, 
I  trust,  irretrievable.  And  we  shall  yet  find  your 
ward,  perhaps  in  a  much  better  condition  than  you 
fear." 

"Of  course,  I  shall  find  her;  I  must  find  her,"  said 
Carl.  "How,  when,  or  where,  I  don't  know,  but 
no  stone  shall  be  left  unturned.  But  the  finding  of 
her  cannot  atone  for  my  neglect.  You  are  in  no  way 
to  blame  for  the  catastrophe ;  I  alone  am  responsible. 
If  I  seem  despondent,  it  is  not  because  I  have  any 
doubt  as  to  whether  I  shall  find  my  ward  or  not,  but 
it  is  perhaps  attributable  to  a  more  selfish  considera- 
tion. Possibly,  I  needed  this  severe  jolt,  for  it  has 
awakened  me  to  the  consciousness  of  a  growing  self- 
conceit  for  which  I  have  no  good  foundation.  I 
think  that  I  have  been  taking  a  very  unworthy  pride 
in  myself.  Have  been  unconsciously  praising  myself 


230  UNCLE  CARL 

to  myself  as  one  who  always  does  his  duty  well ;  and 
here  I  find  that  I  have  been  inexcusably  remiss  in  a 
most  important  duty,  and  in  a  way  that  may  have 
resulted  in  a  deep  injury  to  a  helpless  little  girl.  I 
cannot  condemn  myself  sufficiently." 

"Oh,  but  you  can,  and  you  do;  more  than  suffi- 
ciently," said  the  lady.  At  the  time,  you  did  the 
best  you  could  according  to  your  knowledge.  It  is 
unfortunate  that  you  did  not  know  more,  but  I  do 
not  see  that  you  should  feel  more  than  a  keen  regret 
at  the  misfortune.  Have  you  any  idea  as  to  whose 
child  it  may  have  been  that  lies  buried  over  yonder?" 

"No,"  said  Englewood,  "but  that  must  be  my  first 
work.  To  find  where  the  child  came  from  is  to  find 
those  who  can  place  me  on  the  track  of  my  ward.  I 
shall  employ  the  most  competent  detectives  I  can  find, 
and  hope  quickly  to  trace  the  poor  girl." 

"Perhaps  the  dead  girl's  people  are  here  now, 
Carl,"  said  Mrs.  Hazelton.  "Yesterday  a  woman, 
who  has  evidently  lived  a  very  hard  life,  approached 
me  on  the  beach  and  made  some  very  pointed  in- 
quiries about  Hattie.  I  gave  her  such  particulars  as 
were  not  of  a  private  nature,  and  she  was  very  much 
agitated  when  she  learned  that  Hattie  had  died  of 
arsenical  poisoning." 

"Did  she  give  any  reason  for  her  interest?"  asked 
Carl. 

"None,  save  that  she  had  known  Hattie  in  Nash- 
ville," replied  Mrs.  Hazelton.  "She  wanted  to 
know  where  the  body  lay,  and  asked  if  it  would  be 
removed  to  the  North.  Of  course  I  could  give  her 
no  information  on  that  point,  as  I  did  not  know  your 
plans.  She  showed  considerable  anxiety,  more  by 
her  manner  than  in  words,  and  I  incline  to  the  belief 


UNCLE  CARL  231 

that  she  might  be  able  to  give  you  some  light  in  re- 
gard to  the  matter  of  Hattie's  parentage." 

"Certainly  I  should  see  this  woman,"  said  Carl. 
"Do  you  know  where  she  can  be  found?" 

"She  said  she  would  probably  be  here  for  three  or 
four  days,"  answered  the  lady,  "and  that  she  might 
see  me  again.  But  I  did  not  ask  her  where  she  was 
stopping." 

"I'll  hunt  her  up  to-morrow,"  said  Carl.  "But 
what  a  fiend  Hattie  must  have  been  with  that  last 
night.  To  poison  the  poor  girl !  For  what  possible 
object!  Oh,  I  hate  to  harbor  such  suspicions;  but, 
do  you  know  my  fellow-trustee,  Stanhope?" 

"No,"  said  his  companion,  "I  have  never  met 
him,  though  I  have  heard  some  things  to  his  dis- 
credit." 

"I  have  reason  to  believe  that  he  is  a  thorough 
scoundrel,"  said  Englewood;  "and  though  I  shudder 
to  think  that  he  could  do  such  a  dastardly  thing  as 
has  been  done  here,  yet,  he  is,  as  far  as  I  know,  the 
only  one  who  could  profit  by  it.  He  is,  in  case  of 
the  death  of  my  ward,  the  heir-at-law  to  the  Cramer 
estate,  and  at  this  time  is  so  heavily  involved  that  the 
cash  in  bank  would  be  a  great  lift  to  him.  Still,  I 
cannot  see, — I  cannot  believe —  Oh,  Heavens!  I 
can't  think  clearly;  all  is  a  muddle.  Let's  walk," 
and  abruptly  rising  Englewood  began  pacing  ner- 
vously up  and  down  the  green  sward.  Mrs.  Hazel- 
ton  watched  him  quietly  for  a  few  moments,  and 
then  going  up  to  him  put  her  arm  through  his,  and 
turned  him  toward  the  house. 

"You  poor  boy!"  she  said,  "you  are  tired  out  with 
your  long  journey,  and  your  nerves  are  getting  the 
better  of  you.  Now  you  are  to  come  in  and  lie  down 
while  your  old  friend  plays  mother  to  you.  Yes, 


232  UNCLE  CARL 

yes,"  as  Englewood  objected,  "you  must.  Just  for  a 
little  while,  I  am  going  to  be  boss;  and  if  you  be- 
have real  nice  perhaps  we  will  take  a  little  walk 
later;  but  now  I  order  you  to  come  in  and  be  cared 
for." 

The  lady  won,  as  ladies  generally  did  with  Carl, 
and  soon  he  was  ensconced  on  a  sofa  in  Mrs.  Hazel- 
ton's  parlor,  and  she  was  leading  his  thoughts  away 
from  his  present  troubles,  back  to  the  old  time  when, 
as  a  child,  he  had  gone  to  his  Sabbath-school  teacher 
with  his  hopes  and  fears,  his  plans  and  ambitions. 
Ere  long  he  grew  quiet,  and  then  she  began  singing 
softly  the  old  songs  that  he  had  loved  in  his  boy- 
hood. Old  "Coronation,"  and  "Denis,"  and  "Anti- 
och."  As  the  familiar  notes  came  from  the  lips  that 
had  so  often  soothed  and  comforted  him  in  his  child- 
hood, Carl's  eyelids  slowly  drooped. 

"  'Here  bring  your  wounded  hearts, 

Here  tell  your  anguish, 
Earth  has  no  sorrow 

That  Heaven  cannot  heal.' " 

Faintly,  sweetly  the  sounds  stole  upon  his  dulling 
senses,  and  he  slept. 

Englewood  awakened  with  a  start,  to  find  himself 
alone.  A  bright  moon  was  shining  through  the  win- 
dow; a  strange,  southern-odor  of  flowers  unknown 
were  sent  by  a  gentle  breeze  to  greet  him;  a  night- 
bird  sang  a  clear  call  to  its  mate,  and  from  the  dis- 
tance he  heard  the  ceaseless  murmur  of  the  ever- 
restless  waves. 

Putting  aside  a  light  shawl  which  had  been  laid 
over  his  shoulders,  Carl  stepped  out  on  the  porch, 
where  Mrs.  Hazelhurst  greeted  him. 


UNCLE  CARL  233 

"There,  sir,"  said  she,  "don't  you  feel  better  now? 
When  we  old  ladies  can  have  our  way  we  generally 
succeed  in  making  you  self-willed  men  learn  the 
value  of  rest." 

"Indeed  I  do  feel  more  like  a  man,"  answered 
Englewood.  "I  was  not  very  polite,  was  I,  to  fall 
asleep  when  you  were  so  kindly  entertaining  me? 
But  what  a  glorious  night !  Is  it  too  late,  think  you, 
for  a  stroll?" 

"It  is  not  very  late,"  said  Mrs.  Hazelton;  "about 
half  after  nine,  I  think.  Suppose  we  stroll  along  the 
beach." 

And  the  two  friends  passed  out  under  the  palm 
trees  that  stretched  in  stately  rows  almost  to  the 
water's  edge.  Neither  was  inclined  for  conversation, 
and  they  walked  quietly  on  beside  the  waters,  drink- 
ing in  the  beauty  of  the  night,  each  engrossed  in 
thought. 

Some  time  had  passed  in  silence  when,  as  they 
were  passing  a  group  of  large  boulders,  their  atten- 
tion was  attracted  by  the  voices  of  a  couple,  a  woman 
and  a  man,  who  were  seated  on  the  stones,  their 
backs  toward  our  friends.  The  man  was  speaking. 

"But  I  tell  you,  Liz,  it  ain't  safe  to  do  it.  Stan- 
hope specially  said  that  you  wuz  to  keep  away  from 
here.  Mebbe  some  time,  w'en  this  here  d d  sus- 
picion has  blowed  over,  we  kin  take  the  girl's  body 
up;  but  jest  now  the  resk  is  too  great." 

"But  I  don't  see  why,"  said  the  woman.  "You 
say  Mr.  Englewood's  dead,  poor  man,  so  he'll  make 
no  trouble ;  and  I  am  sure  that  the  lady,  if  she  knew 
that  it  was  my  girl  that  was  buried,  would  let  me 
have  the  body." 

"H — 1,  Liz !  Don't  ye  ever  mention  that  to 
her,"  said  the  man.  "It  would  git  us  into  no  end  of 


234  UNCLE  CARL 

a  muss.  Of  course,  that  cursed  Englewood  can't 
stick  his  nose  in  ag'in,  but  there's  others  thet — " 

Suddenly  the  man  stopped  talking;  and  the 
woman,  turning,  exclaimed,  "Why,  Jenkins ! 
What's  the  matter,  Jenkins?" 

But  the  man  had  risen  to  his  feet,  shaking  as  if 
with  the  palsy;  his  face,  ghastly  in  the  moonlight, 
was  distorted  with  fear;  his  eyes  seemed  starting 
from  their  sockets  as,  with  fallen  jaw,  he  stared, 
horror  in  every  lineament,  at  a  tall  gentleman  who 
stood  motionless  before  them,  looking  fixedly  at  the 
man.  Hours  or  seconds — Jenkins  could  never  have 
told  which — the  two  stood  there,  and  then  with  a 
horrible  screech,  the  scoundrel  fled  up  the  beach, 
crying,  "It's  Englewood's  ghost!  It's  Englewood's 
ghost!  Don't  let  it  follow  me!"  and,  yelling  like  a 
maniac,  disappeared  in  the  distance. 

These  actions  can  hardly  be  wondered  at.  Jen- 
kins, like  most  villains,  especially  the  very  ignorant, 
was  intensely  superstitious.  He  had,  he  thought, 
seen  Englewood  fall  a  distance  that  no  man  could 
fall  and  live.  He  believed  him  to  be  dead  without 
the  slightest  doubt;  and  now,  at  the  very  moment 
when  his  murderer — as  he  believed  himself  to  be — 
was  coupling  Carl's  name  with  a  curse,  to  have  his 
form  appear,  was  to  believe  that  the  spirit  of  the 
departed  had  come  for  vengeance.  For  the  time  be- 
ing Jenkins  was  indeed  crazed.  Rushing  blindly  on, 
ever  and  anon  casting  fearsome  glances  over  his 
shoulder  to  see  if  he  was  followed,  he  reached  a 
small  village  some  two  or  three  miles  distant.  Dash- 
ing down  the  quay,  he  leaped  into  a  small  boat,  and 
frenziedly  pulling  at  the  oars  was  soon  a  goodly  dis- 
tance out  upon  the  waters.  Caring  for  nothing, 
thinking  of  nothing,  but  that  he  must  get  away  from 


UNCLE  CARL  235 

that  terrible  apparition,  he  rowed  recklessly  on  and 
on;  and  then  in  his  frenzy  he  crashed  against  the 
side  of  a  large,  black  mass,  capsizing  his  boat,  and 
with  a  cry  of  utter  despair  he  sank  beneath  the 
waves.  The  cry  was  heard  by  the  watch  of  the  ves- 
sel— a  sailing-craft  bound  on  a  trading  cruise  to  the 
south  seas.  A  boat  was  at  once  lowered  and  the 
wretch  was  soon  aboard  the  craft,  and  an  involun- 
tary passenger  on  his  way  to  strange  lands.  It  will 
be  years  ere  he  again  returns  to  his  old  haunts;  and 
we  will  leave  him  to  journey  on  while  we  return  to 
the  little  group  he  had  left  so  suddenly  behind  him. 

Watching  rather  contemptuously  the  fleeing  vil- 
lain until  he  disappeared  in  the  distance,  Englewood 
turned  toward  the  woman,  who  shrank  back  as  he 
advanced. 

"Don't  be  afraid,  madam,"  he  said;  "I  am  not  a 
ghost,  but  good  solid  flesh  and  blood." 

"But,  sir,"  asked  the  woman,  "are  you  really  the 
Mr.  Englewood  who  is  dead?" 

"Well,  no,  not  the  one  who  is  dead,"  said  Carl, 
"but  the  one  whom  your  companion  thought  he  had 
killed  a  month  ago." 

"Oh,  he  didn't  try  to  do  that,  did  he,  sir?"  asked 
the  woman.  "He  told  me  that  he  saw  you  fall  down 
a  shaft;  but  he  couldn't  have  done  it  himself,  could 
he,  sir?" 

"I'm  afraid  that  he  did  try  it,  but  good  fortune 
saved  me  from  the  fall.  Jenkins  left  too  hurriedly 
to  learn  the  result  of  his  attempt,"  said  Carl.  "But 
let  us  change  the  subject.  I  overheard  enough  of 
your  conversation  to  learn  that  you  believe  that  the 
child  I  thought  to  be  my  ward  was  in  reality  your 
own  daughter.  I  want  to  know  more  particularly 
in  regard  to  it." 


236  UNCLE  CARL 

"Oh,  but  I  don't  dare  to  tell  you  about  it,  sir," 
she  replied.  "Jenkins  says  as  how  it  would  put  Mr. 
Stanhope  in  a  lot  of  trouble,  and  he'd  kill  me  if  he 
knew  I  said  anything  about  it."  Mrs.  Hazelton, 
who  had  remained  in  the  background,  now  advanced, 
and  taking  the  woman's  hand  said: 

"Be  afraid  of  nothing.  A  mother  has  a  right  to 
her  child,  and  if  you  can  show  your  right,  the  poor 
remains  shall  be  at  your  disposal.  This,  Mr.  Engle- 
wood,  is  the  woman  I  told  you  of  as  having  inquired 
so  earnestly  about  Hattie." 

"Oh,  she  was — she  was  my  own  little  girl,"  said 
the  woman,  sobbing;  "and  I  thought  I  was  doing 
what  was  best  for  her,  so  that  she  wouldn't  grow  up 
a  sinner  like  her  mother.  But  they  killed  her,  so 
they  did,  and  I  shan't  ever  see  her  again !" 

"My  poor  woman,"  said  Mrs.  Hazelton,  "I  don't 
know  your  story,  but  you  have  suffered — justly  or 
unjustly;  and  I  want  to  be  a  friend  to  you.  Our 
home  is  but  a  little  distance  off.  Won't  you  come 
there  with  us?  We  will  talk  it  over,  and  if  you  care 
to  tell  us  the  whole  story  we  may  be  able  to  help  you, 
as  well  as  to  further  the  cause  of  justice  in  another 
quarter." 

"Oh,  ma'am,  I  ain't  fit  to  come  to  your  house," 
said  the  woman;  "I  am  too  low  down  for  you  to 
make  up  with." 

"No  one  who  suffers  is  too  low  down  for  sympathy 
and  help,"  said  Mrs.  Hazelton,  as  she  put  her  arm 
about  the  woman's  waist  and  urged  her  to  walk. 

"I  think  that  is  the  best  thing  to  do,"  said  Engle- 
wood.  "And  I  can  assure  this  poor  woman  that  if 
she  can  see  her  way  to  help  to  right  a  great  wrong, 
no  harm  shall  come  to  her  for  her  part  in  it." 

Yielding  at  length  to  their  united  persuasion  the 


UNCLE  CARL  237 

woman  consented  to  accompany  the  two  friends. 
And  there,  in  Mrs.  Hazelton's  home,  she  told  her 
story. 

Lizzie  Harding  in  her  girlhood  had  been  some- 
what headstrong.  Her  parents,  of  the  well-to-do- 
tradesman  class,  had  humored  her  whims  until,  as 
she  neared  her  later  teens,  she  was  almost  beyond 
their  control.  Rather  pretty,  she  attracted  many  of 
the  young  men  of  her  class.  A  lover  of  pleasure, 
and  wayward,  though  without  thought  of  the 
grosser  sins,  she  was  often  recklessly  daring  in  ignor- 
ing the  conventionalities  of  life.  One  came  at  last 
to  whom  she  gave  her  heart;  and  he,  taking  ad- 
vantage of  her  innocent  indiscretions,  became  the 
father  of  her  child,  and  then  deserted  her  without 
giving  his  offspring  the  protection  of  his  name. 
From  that  time  the  girl — shunned  by  her  old  as- 
sociates— descended  low  and  lower,  until  she  became 
the  proprietress  of  a  house  of  ill-resort.  She  kept 
her  child  with  her,  however,  lavishing  upon  the  girl 
a  strong  mother-love ;  and  it  was  with  the  hope  that 
she  might  some  time  be  able  to  give  the  child  a  pure 
home,  that  she  kept  her  from  contact  with  the  fre- 
quenters of  her  house ;  though  the  girl  early  showed 
a  viciousness  and  deceit  doubtless  inherited  in  great 
measure  from  both  parents. 

When  the  daughter  was  about  fourteen  years  old, 
Jenkins,  who  had  been  an  "agent"  for  the  mother's 
house,  came  down  from  Michigan  with  a  proposi- 
tion. His  employer,  Mr.  Stanhope,  was,  barring 
one,  the  heir  to  a  considerable  estate.  It  was  his 
purpose  to  lose  that  one;  and  he  proposed  that,  as 
her  guardian  had  never  seen  his  ward,  Miss  Hard- 
ing's  child  should  be  substituted  for  Hattie  Cramer. 
The  two  girls  were  so  utterly  unlike  in  appearance 


23  8  UNCLE  CARL 

that,  after  a  sufficient  lapse  of  time,  during  which  the 
real  heir  should  be  so  utterly  lost  as  never  to  be 
found  again,  it  could  be  easily  proven  that  a  "mis- 
take" had  been  made,  and  with  due  legal  procedure 
Stanhope  would  secure  the  property.  He  offered  to 
pay  a  goodly  sum  of  money  for  the  "loan"  of  the 
girl,  and  would  guarantee  that  no  harm  should  come 
to  either  of  them. 

Lizzie  Harding  was  not  a  bad  woman  at  heart; 
but  she  was  tempted  to  accept  the  proposal  for  her 
child's  sake. 

The  girl  would  be  given  a  good  home  and  would 
be  educated.  The  money  consideration  would  enable 
them  to  live  a  life  of  respectability  and  the  child 
would  be  freed  from  the  shadow  of  the  mother's 
sins.  After  most  solemn  promises  that  no  real 
harm — save  the  loss  of  her  property — should  befall 
the  rightful  heir,  Miss  Harding  consented  to  the 
plan.  In  this  decision  she  was  influenced  in  no  small 
measure  by  the  belief  that  Stanhope  was  determined 
to  accomplish  his  design,  and  that  if  she  did  not 
profit  by  it  some  one  else  would. 

By  a  fortunate  combination  of  circumstances  the 
exchange  was  made  at  the  depot  without  arousing 
suspicions,  and  Jenkins  went  West  with  Miss 
Cramer,  while  the  daughter  of  the  unhappy  mother 
was  taken  to  Florida  by  Mrs.  Hazelton.  The 
woman  had  no  suspicion  of  the  real  danger  to  which 
she  might  be  subjecting  her  daughter,  until  after  her 
death,  and  the  result  of  the  autopsy.  She  had  no 
proof  of  foul  play;  but  she  believed  that  Stanhope, 
desirous  of  getting  control  of  the  Cramer  estate, 
might  have  planned  from  the  first  the  death  of  the 
reputed  heir,  while  he  would  shrink  from  being  in- 
strumental in  taking  the  life  of  one  of  his  own  blood. 


UNCLE  CARL  239 

From  things  Jenkins  had  said  she  believed  that  it 
was  through  the  agency  of  one  of  Stanhope's  tools 
that  the  poison  had  been  administered.  She  had  no 
evidence  to  that  effect,  however.  She  did  not  know 
what  had  become  of  Miss  Cramer,  though  Jenkins 
said  that  he  knew  where  she  was,  and  that  she  would 
never  return. 

This,  in  brief,  was  the  story  of  Lizzie  Harding; 
and  in  corroboration  of  it  she  evinced  intimate  knowl- 
edge of  the  dead  girl's  characteristics,  producing  also 
a  photograph  which  Mrs.  Hazelton  instantly  recog- 
nized as  of  Hattie. 

Assuring  Miss  Harding  of  protection  and  assist- 
ance, Mrs.  Hazelton  persuaded  the  woman  to  remain 
with  them  until  the  next  morning;  and  having  shown 
her  to  a  spare  room,  the  two  friends  sat  long,  dis- 
cussing the  information  that  had  been  revealed  to 
them. 

The  first  work,  of  course,  must  be  to  find  Jenkins, 
and  from  him  learn  the  whereabouts  of  Carl's  ward. 
This  Englewood  would  undertake  in  the  morning; 
but  as  the  reader  will  readily  understand,  utter  fail- 
ure would  reward  his  efforts  in  that  direction. 

The  ends  of  justice  must  be  served  also,  but  care 
must  be  taken  that  there  should  be  no  miscarriage  of 
it;  and  as  yet  they  had  no  evidence  connecting  Stan- 
hope with  the  crime  that  would  be  received  as  con- 
clusive in  a  court  of  law;  though  there  was  ample 
ground  for  belief  that  the  daughter  of  Cramer,  and 
heir  to  his  estate,  was  still  alive.  Until  absolute 
proof  of  her  death  or,  failing  that,  the  lapse  of  seven 
years,  which  under  the  Michigan  statutes  must  pass 
after  complete  disappearance  before  the  court  could 
pronounce  a  legatee  legally  dead,  the  property  must 
be  held  intact.  Thus  it  was  practically  certain  that 


240  UNCLE  CARL 

the  schemes  of  the  villainous  trustee  must  fail  of 
fruition  for  the  present  at  least.  Meanwhile,  it 
could  be  reasonably  expected  that  not  only  would 
Hattie  Cramer  be  found  and  restored  to  her  own, 
but  also  sufficient  evidence  produced  to  further  the 
punishment  of  the  guilty  ones.  Englewood  was 
much  averse  to  this  latter.  His  whole  nature  re- 
volted at  the  duty;  for  duty  he  conceived  it  to  be. 
His  creed  was  to  build  up  rather  than  to  pull  down, 
and  he  would  have  much  preferred  to  use  his  in- 
fluence toward  turning  the  villains  from  their  evil 
courses,  than  toward  their  forcible  punishment. 
Nevertheless,  his  duty  was  plain.  The  law  must  be 
enforced;  not  so  much  for  the  punishment  of  crim- 
inals as  to  act  as  a  deterrent  to  others  evilly  in- 
clined. 

"An  eye  for  an  eye"  is  a  poor  principle,  if  its  only 
object  is  to  punish  a  criminal.  But  if  the  certainty 
of  a  penalty  to  follow  deters  others  from  the  com- 
mission of  like  crimes,  and  thus  subserves  the  wel- 
fare and  safety  of  the  people,  then  the  principle  is 
not  without  favorable  argument.  And  so,  much  as 
he  disliked  the  role  of  detective,  Englewood  deemed 
it  his  duty  to  his  fellows  to  bring  the  criminals  before 
the  bar  of  justice  if  possible. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

Another  day  had  passed.  Since  early  morning 
Englewood  had  been  searching  for  Jenkins.  He  had 
employed  the  police,  and  left  no  gate  unopened  that 
might  lead  to  knowledge  of  that  scamp,  but  without 
success.  The  man  had  disappeared  as  completely 
and  left  as  little  trace  behind  as  would  a  fish  swim- 
ming from  a  small  stream  into  the  broad  ocean.  De- 
termined to  find  him,  all  of  the  machinery  at  com- 
mand had  been  put  in  motion;  outgoing  trains  were 
closely  watched,  surrounding  towns  notified,  and 
everything  done  that  could  be  done  to  intercept  the 
man  who  could  reveal  the  whereabouts  of  the  true 
Hattie  Cramer;  and  now,  weary  and  despondent, 
our  friend  sat  on  the  porch  of  Mrs.  Hazelton's 
home.  That  lady,  too,  had  been  at  work  during  the 
day;  but  in  a  different  line  and  with  better  success 
than  had  met  Carl's  efforts. 

"I  have  a  genuine  sorrow,"  said  she,  "for  the  life- 
failures  of  my  sex;  and  that  poor  wretched  mother, 
coming  to  us  for  the  remains  of  her  child,  appeals  to 
me  strongly.  She  had,  originally,  the  making  of  an 
energetic,  good  woman;  but  her  early  training  was 
not  of  the  kind  that  makes  for  righteousness,  and 
instead  of  the  upward  growth  she  became  the  sin- 
ner you  know  of.  But  I  feel  confident  that  the  germs 
of  the  good  are  still  living;  dormant  perhaps,  but 
yet  with  enough  of  life  to  grow  and  bear  fruit.  I 
have  been  talking  with  her  to-day,  and  though  she 
will  make  me  no  promises  as  to  her  future  course, 
she  has  agreed  to  remain  with  me  for  a  few  days, 
16 


242  UNCLE  CARL 

and  I  hope  yet  to  win  her  for  the  Father's  King- 
dom." 

"Good,  good!"  exclaimed  Englewood.  "If  any 
one  can  help  the  poor  sinner,  I  am  sure  that  you  can 
and  will." 

"With  the  Master's  help,  I  can  save  her,"  said 
Mrs.  Hazelton  devoutly. 

"The  Master's?  Yes,  I  know  that  to  you  all  of 
the  praise  and  the  glory  belong  to  your  God,"  said 
Carl.  "Whether  or  not  that  be  so,  I  am  glad  that 
your  heart  of  gold  shall  be  the  medium  through 
which  another  wretched  one  shall  see  light." 

"You  poor  boy,"  responded  she,  "have  you  never 
yet  been  able  to  settle  that  question?  I  remember 
that,  when  you  were  having  your  childhood  trials, 
and  doubt  and  uncertainty  seemed  to  cloud  every- 
thing that  our  religion  taught  of  God,  you  were  yet 
so  earnest  and  truthful  that  I  had  no  doubt  but  that 
you  would  find  the  light.  Surely  you  believe  in 
Christ's  divinity?" 

"Yes,  my  friend,  I  do,"  said  Carl,  "but  not  as  you 
do.  Religion  is  something  that  I  rarely  discuss,  save 
to  give  or  to  receive  light;  for  I  have  found  that 
between  those  who  have  settled  views  it  is  not  only 
useless,  but  tends  to  create  heart-burnings,  anger, 
estrangement.  In  metaphysics,  faith  rules ;  proof  or 
absolute  knowledge  does  not  exist.  But  I  will  say 
this — I  believe  that  Christ  was  divine  in  the  sense 
that  the  great  Emerson  conceived  Him.  In  his  ad- 
dress before  the  senior  class  in  Divinity  College  in 
1838,  he  said: 

'Jesus  Christ  belonged  to  the  true  race  of 
prophets.  He  saw  with  open  eye  the  mystery  of 
the  soul.  Drawn  by  its  severe  harmony,  ravished 
with  its  beauty,  he  lived  in  it,  and  had  his 


UNCLE  CARL  243 

being  there.  Alone  in  all  history  he  estimated  the 
greatness  of  man.  One  man  was  true  to  what  is 
in  you  and  me.  He  saw  that  God  incarnates  himself 
in  man,  and  evermore  goes  forth  anew  to  take  posses- 
sion of  his  World.  He  said,  in  this  jubilee  of  sub- 
lime emotion,  "I  am  divine.  Through  me,  God  acts; 
through  me,  speaks.  Would  you  see  God,  see  me; 
or  see  thee,  when  thou  also  thinkest  as  I  now 
think."  "* 

"Thus  you  see,  my  friend,  I  believe  in  the  divinity 
of  Christ,  but  only  in  the  sense  in  which  you  and  /  are 
divine.  Nature  is  part  of  God,  if  not  God  himself; 
and  so  we  are  all  divine  even  as  Christ  was." 

"But,  Carl,  that  is  not  right,"  expostulated  his 
friend.  "Why,  if  that  be  so,  the  very  stones  under 
our  feet  are  divine,  for  they  are  part  of  Nature ;  and 
surely  you  would  not  advocate  the  worship  of 
pebbles." 

"Of  course,  they  are  divine,"  replied  Englewood. 
"But  no,  I  would  not  advocate  their  worship,  as 
stones.  But  the  great  truths,  the  eternal  laws  that 
formed  out  of  chaos  the  worlds  and  systems  of 
worlds,  I  would  worship  if  in  tangible  form.  The 
law  of  love,  which  is  to  you  the  law  of  God,  is  exist- 
ent now  as  it  was  in  the  beginning.  To  you  it  may 
be  a  sentiment,  or  a  truth  which  you  worship  as  rep- 
resented in  semi-tangible  form  in  your  conception  of 
the  God-head.  To  me  it  is  a  principle.  The  attrac- 
tion of  atom  for  atom  which  caused  the  drawing 
closer  and  closer  together  of  the  nebulous  mass  until 
it  was  in  the  compact  form  of  a  world,  is  the  same 
principle  that  has  brought  still  closer  together  par- 
ticles of  the  world  itself,  to  form  minerals,  crystals, 
plants  and  animals.  It  is  the  same  principle  that 
causes  a  comparatively  small  aggregation  of  atoms  to 

*  Address  delivered  before  the  Senior  class  in  Divinity  College, 
Cambridge,  Sunday  evening,  July  15,  1838- 


244  UNCLE  CARL 

be  attracted  to  a  similar  aggregation  of  atoms,  until 
they  unite  as  lovers  in  marriage.  And  that  same 
principle  then  overflows  and  is  continued  in  the  off- 
spring from  generation  to  generation.  Love  is  a 
great  eternal  Truth,  as  well  exemplified  in  the  little 
pebble  as  in  any  other  thing.  A  force  that  is  found 
in  all  things,  animate  and  inanimate;  in  the  spiritual, 
the  intellectual,  and  the  material.  And  that  principle 
is  worthy  of  worship,  for  it  means  life  itself.  You 
say  'God  is  love';  to  me  Love  is  God." 

"Why,  Carl  Englewood!"  said  Mrs.  Hazelton, 
"you  surprise  me.  Your  thoughts  are  altogether  new 
to  me.  Not  that  they  change  my  faith  at  all." 

"I  would  not  have  discussed  such  a  question,"  said 
Carl,  "if  I  had  not  known  you  to  be  firmly  grounded 
in  your  beliefs." 

"I  can  well  believe  that,"  said  she;  "but,  my  boy, 
you  haven't  got  the  real  kernel  of  the  nut  yet.  Your 
conception  of  Love  is  beautiful,  but  cold  unless  you 
give  it  personality.  Love  as  a  principle  of  natural 
law  is  grand,  but  love  as  God — a  person — a  being 
who  in  His  arms  enfolds  all  humanity  with  conscious 
purpose,  surely  that  is  the  only  true,  complete  con- 
ception." 

"I  cannot  say  that  it  is  not  the  only  true,  complete 
conception,  for  I  do  not  know,"  replied  Englewood. 
"That  is  in  the  realm  of  metaphysical  speculation, 
for  which  there  is  no  proof  save  faith.  It  is  not  my 
conception,  however.  I  have  not  been  able  to  con- 
ceive of  a  personal  Deity,  nor  is  it  necessary  for  my 
happiness  to  do  so." 

"But,  Carl,  surely  you  believe  in  immortality,  don't 
you?"  asked  she. 

"Yes;  but  that  also  is  a  belief  circumscribed  by 
doubt  as  to  whether  or  not  the  immortality  shall  be 


UNCLE  CARL  245 

of  a  conscious  Ego.  My  influence,  which  comes 
from  my  real  self,  shall  be  eternity  long  in  its  effects ; 
of  that  immortality  I  am  sure.  But  I  only  pain  you, 
without  any  good  to  follow  by  talking  on  this  sub- 
ject. Let  it  suffice  to  say,  that  to  me  now,  as  when  I 
was  a  member  of  your  Sabbath-school  class,  truth  is 
the  imperial  virtue.  I  cannot  force  my  belief;  I  do 
not  think  that  I  have  any  right  to  force  it,  even  if 
possible.  Sincerity  I  conceive  to  be  the  first  duty  of 
man.  I  therefore  have,  to  the  best  of  my  ability, 
solved  these  problems.  So  far  as  I  have  gone  my 
foundation  is  firm  as  a  rock.  Upon  that  foundation 
I  am  erecting  my  life  structure.  The  materials  I  am 
using  are  the  best  that  my  conception  of  truth  can 
give  me.  My  finished  building  may  be  but  a  poor 
house,  but  it  will  be  a  true  one  as  I  see  the  truth.  If 
I  could  add  to  it  the  "cross  and  crown"  it  might  be 
more  imposing,  I  might  be  happier  in  it,  but  that  ad- 
dition shall  never  be  made  unless  I  can  clearly  see  the 
material  to  shape  it  from  in  my  garden  of  Truth." 

"Oh,  I  am  so  sorry,  my  friend,"  said  Mrs.  Hazel- 
ton.  "We  need  you  in  the  Lord's  vineyard.  I  have 
no  doubts  of  you,  nor  of  your  future;  for  some  time, 
I  feel  sure,  the  true  light  will  come  to  you.  The 
cross  and  the  crown  shall  yet  be  yours.  But,  I  con- 
fess to  a  fear  as  to  your  influence.  When  a  good 
man,  a  pure  man,  holds  such  opinions  as  you  do,  he 
can  hardly  help  drawing  others  away  from  their  old 
beliefs.  Your  beliefs  are  sufficient  for  you,  you  think. 
But  they  are  not  sufficient  for  the  world.  The  world 
needs  the  Master  that  you  reject.  And  many,  if  they 
had  your  lack  of  faith  in  immortality,  would  feel 
themselves  justified  in  saying,  'If  this  is  the  only  life 
we  are  to  lead,  let  us  get  all  out  of  it  that  we  can.' 


246  UNCLE  CARL 

With  the  result  that  pleasure-seeking,  license,  crime, 
and  utter  selfishness  would  rule  their  lives." 

"That  is  rather  a  hard  arraignment  of  my  in- 
fluence," said  Carl  sadly.  "But  I  hardly  think  that 
you  need  fear  such  dire  results.  I  do  not  spread  my 
infidelity  broadcast,  for  I,  too,  realize  that  what  is 
sufficient  for  me  may  not  be  for  the  multitude.  But 
if  others  take  my  attitude  as  a  model — I  doubt  if 
many  do — and  make  my  belief  the  standard  for 
action,  license  cannot  be  their  rule.  Physical  pleas- 
ures are  not  the  highest  form  of  enjoyment.  You 
say  that  if  we  deny  a  future  state  of  bliss  we  may  as 
well  get  all  of  the  enjoyment  that  we  can  get  out  of 
this  life,  and  you  say  well.  You  speak  truth.  But 
if  one  is  wise  he  will  know  that  the  highest  enjoy- 
ment, the  greatest  happiness,  springs  from  the  con- 
quest of  Truth,  the  triumph  of  the  mental,  the  up- 
building of  the  intellectual  and  the  moral  character. 
Live  for  to-day  if  he  will,  but  let  the  day  be  filled 
with  intelligent  effort  to  realize  the  ideal  of  purity, 
truth,  unselfishness — for  therein  is  the  greatest  hap- 
piness here;  and  if  we  are  indeed  immortal,  here- 
after, also.  One  great  reason  why  humanity  falls  so 
very  far  short  of  the  ideal  is  that  it  is  very  far  from 
realizing  what  the  highest  happiness  is,  and  how  it 
may  be  compassed.  Men  are  prone  to  the  selfish 
idea  that  the  possession  of  wealth  or  power,  or  the 
pandering  to  purely  physical  or  sensuous  tastes  and 
pleasures,  constitutes  happiness ;  but  they  are  much — 
very  much — mistaken.  Men  often  sacrifice  their 
truth,  their  conscience,  their  honor,  to  gain  a  few 
fleeting  hours  of  pleasure,  and  think  that  they  are 
courting  happiness.  But  he  only  has  some  faint  con- 
ception of  real  happiness  who  has  made  some  earnest, 
unselfish  sacrifice  of  his  own  comfort  that  another, 


UNCLE  CARL  247 

or  others,  may  have  an  increased  allotment  of  sun- 
shine. So  that  if  my  belief  be  followed  by  any  one 
as  a  model,  I  must  hope  that  you  are  wrong,  and  that 
license  would  not  prevail  as  a  natural  consequence. 
A  man  may  be  a  good  man,  a  true  man,  though  he 
be  an  atheist.  But  don't  misunderstand  me.  I  am 
not  posing  as  a  model  man.  I  have  my  ideals,  as 
who  has  not?  But  though  I  endeavor  to  draw  some- 
what nearer  to  them  day  by  day,  I  realize  but  too 
well  that  I  fall  far  short  of  them.  The  best  I  can 
do,  the  best  that  any  one  can  do,  is  constantly  to 
strive  to  get  in  closer  touch  with  the  good." 

"Oh,  I  am  not  such  a  bigot  but  that  I  can  believe 
that  a  man  may  be  good,"  said  Mrs.  Hazelton,  "even 
if  without  the  Divine  light,  or  a  belief  in  a  personal 
God.  I  believe  you  to  be  an  honest  and  a  good  man. 
I  know  that  you  are;  but  you  are  one  in  ten  thou- 
sand, the  rest  need  the  spiritual  leadership  of  the 
Master;  and  I  cannot  but  think  that  when  your 
views  are  expressed  you  disturb  the  very  foundation 
of  society.  Your  views  are  much  the  same  in  effect, 
as  we  teach,  but  are  incomplete  without  God's  leader- 
ship. You  would  take  away  that  leadership  without 
giving  anything  in  place  of  it,  and  I  fear  are  thus 
doing  a  great  wrong  to  the  world.  I  think  that  you 
should  not  do  this." 

"Perhaps  you  are  right,  but  I  cannot  think  so 
now,"  responded  Carl.  "First,  I  do  not  spread  my 
agnosticism  broadcast,  for  I  am  well  aware  that 
minds  that  have  been  for  generations  accustomed 
to  placing  their  burdens  on  spiritual  shoulders  are 
hardly  strong  enough  to  bear  them  themselves. 
People  who  have  been  taught  to  live  uprightly  be- 
cause of  the  eternal  personal  reward  for  well-doing, 
and  to  abstain  from  evil-doing  for  fear  of  judg- 


248  UNCLE  CARL 

ment,  could  hardly  accept  my  doctrine  with  safety  to 
the  people,  without  due  preparation;  and  if  the 
hopes  and  fears  of  a  future  eternity  were  suddenly 
lost  they  might  well  be  expected  to  let  their  selfish 
tendencies  have  full  play,  and  get  all  the  pleasure 
they  could  out  of  this  life.  Therefore,  and  also  be- 
cause I  do  not  like  to  express  my  views  on  sacred 
things  where  they  are  not  understood,  I  seldom  speak 
of  religion  to  my  fellows.  But  when  you  speak  as 
if  I  were  doing  a  wrong  when  I  do  talk  to  the  truth- 
seeker  of  these  things,  because  I  cannot  point  out  the 
true  road,  I  think  that  you  err.  When  a  traveler, 
seeking  a  distant  city,  has  gone  far  on  a  road  and, 
feeling  convinced  that  it  will  not  lead  to  the  goal,  re- 
turns to  his  starting-point  to  find  that  several  others, 
wishing  for  the  same  destination,  are  starting  out  on 
the  same  road  that  he  has  traveled,  would  he  not  be 
doing  less  than  his  duty  if  he  failed  to  tell  them, 
'This  is  not  the  true  path;  I  am  unable  to  tell  you 
which  road  to  travel,  but  I  am  sure  that  this  is  not 
the  right  one'  ? 

"My  friend,  I  have  studied  this  question  deeply, 
earnestly,  and  have  reached  my  decision  after  much 
sorrow.  How  then  can  you  say  that  I  do  wrong  to 
speak  of  my  views  because,  having  proven  to  my 
satisfaction  that  the  road  I  had  traveled  does  not 
lead  to  the  light,  I  am  yet  unable  to  direct  the  search- 
ers to  the  right  road?" 

"But,  Carl,"  said  his  friend,  "others  have  traveled 
that  same  road  and  have  seen  the  light.  Is  not  their 
testimony  as  worthy  of  credence  as  your  own?  Per- 
haps they  have  been  given  the  keener  vision,  or  they 
may  have  traveled  farther  on  the  road  that  you 
did." 

"Answer  me,  truly,"  said  Englewood,  "have  not 


UNCLE  CARL  249 

all  of  those  who  you  say  have  given  testimony  that 
they  have  seen  the  light,  so  far  as  you  know,  seen  it 
only  with  the  eyes  of  faith?" 

"Yes;  a  faith  that  can  remove  mountains  and  see 
the  gates  of  the  beautiful  city  beyond?"  answered 
Mrs.  Hazelton. 

"Then,"  said  Carl,  "I  would  let  them  travel  on 
their  road,  for  they  have  their  light,  but  it  is  an 
inner  one;  whether  the  light  of  truth  or  of  senti- 
ment matters  not  if  it  suffices  them  for  their  jour- 
ney, and  I  would  not  destroy  it.  But  there  are  thou- 
sands who  have  not  that  faith  and  who  are  striving 
earnestly  for  truth.  Am  I  not  recreant  to  my  duty 
if  I  withhold  from  these  seekers  the  knowledge  that 
I  have  gained  in  my  own  search,  giving  them  such 
strength  and  encouragement  as  I  may;  influencing 
them  toward  uprightness  and  purity  and  well-doing, 
even  if  I  cannot  hold  before  them  the  promise  of 
'everlasting  glory'  for  well-doing,  instead  of  the  self- 
reward  of  virtue? 

"But  you  and  I  cannot  agree  on  such  a  topic.  We 
each  feel  the  strength  of  inner  conviction,  and  each 
is  honest.  I  would  not  disturb  your  faith,  you  cannot 
disturb  what  some  would  call  my  self-sufficiency.  I 
shall  hope  to  meet  you  and  many  other  friends,  'be- 
yond the  sunrise' ;  but  meanwhile  my  work  here  shall 
be  done  for  itself  alone,  and  not  because  of  any  re- 
liance on  that  hope." 

"You  poor  boy!"  said  Mrs.  Hazelton.  "You 
can't  be  different  from  what  you  are,  can  you  ?  But, 
I  don't  know  but  what  it  is  best  so.  As  my  people 
need  the  Master,  so  does  the  world  need  strong, 
courageous,  good  men,  no  matter  what  their  creed. 
For  the  work  of  Satan  is  vigorous,  and  your  prin- 


250  UNCLE  CARL 

ciples  combat  him  as  surely  as  do  ours,  and  in  ways 
that  we  could  not  pursue." 

"I  think  that  you  and  I  are  not  far  apart  in  prin- 
ciple," said  Englewood.  "We  agree  on  the  moral 
truths.  That  you  believe  in  a  personal  Diety  while 
I  am  not  prepared  to  acknowledge  God  in  that  form, 
in  no  way  interferes  with  our  conception  of  individual 
responsibility.  The  work,  the  duty  that  we  owe  to 
humanity  in  this  life,  is  clear  to  each.  In  that  work, 
however,  we  differ  in  one  detail.  To  me,  it  seems 
that  you,  and  people  of  like  creed,  lay  too  much 
stress  on  the  effect  on  an  eternal  personal  life,  of  the 
work  done  in  this  life;  while  I  am  a  firm  believer  in 
the  education  and  enlightenment  of  the  individual  in 
this  life  to  the  importance  of  doing  good  for  its  own 
sake;  that  right  thinking  and  right  living  carries 
with  it  the  only  happiness  both  for  self  and  others 
that  is  worth  seeking.  Living  for  to-day,  or  for  time, 
we  may  well  let  the  'things  of  to-morrow' — or  eter- 
nity— 'take  care  of  to-morrow.'  It  is  clear  to  me 
that  if  the  work  of  to-day  is  well  done,  the  mere 
matter  of  belief  or  faith  in  a  personal  God  shall  in 
no  way  alter  our  condition  in  the  eternal  'to-mor- 
row.' ' 

"That  is  putting  a  new  construction,  to  me,  on  that 
passage,  'let  the  things  of  to-morrow  take  care  of  to- 
morrow,' "  replied  Mrs.  Hazelton.  "But  though  I 
am  loth  to  disagree  with  you  on  such  a  point,  I  can- 
not see  it  as  you  do.  I  have  long  lived  in  the  belief 
that  the  rejection  of  the  gospel,  the  denial  of  Christ's 
divinity,  shall  meet  with  the  eternal  condemnation. 
I  am  satisfied  that  in  all  things  else  you  shall  meet 
with  the  'Well  done,  good  and  faithful  servant' ;  and 
my  faith  is  that  strong  that  I  am  sure  that,  ere  the 
Reaper  comes  for  you,  the  light  of  the  real  Truth, 


UNCLE  CARL  251 

the  Saviour's  love,  shall  be  known  to  you,  and  shall 
crown  your  life's  work  with  God's  glory.  I  have  no 
fear  for  your  future,  and  am  content  to  leave  all  in 
the  hands  of  'Him  that  doeth  all  things  well.'  " 


CHAPTER  XXV 

For  a  week  Englewood  searched  diligently  for  the 
vanished  Jenkins.  But  his  combined  efforts,  with  the 
police  and  the  detectives,  availed  nothing,  and  he  de- 
cided to  leave  them  on  the  lookout  there,  while  he 
would  endeavor  to  trace  his  ward  by  the  medium  of 
such  slight  information  as  Lizzie  Harding  had  been 
able  to  give.  That  was  meagre  enough.  All  that 
she  knew  had  been  gathered  from  chance  remarks  of 
Jenkins,  and  was  to  the  effect  that  he  had  known  of 
her  having  secured  a  position  as  maid  in  a  boarding- 
house  in  Salt  Lake  or  Ogden,  she  was  not  sure  which. 
There  was  a  possibility,  however,  that  by  advertising 
and  the  services  of  the  detective  agencies,  together 
with  the  offer  of  a  liberal  reward,  he  might  find  the 
deserted  girl.  It  was  his  purpose  to  first  return  to 
Michigan  and,  producing  his  proofs  of  the  crime  that 
had  been  committed,  secure  the  property  from  viola- 
tion, and  then  take  up  the  search. 

The  Harding  woman  had  been  induced  by  Mrs. 
Hazelton  to  remain,  for  a  time  at  least,  in  Florida. 
The  good  woman  had  strong  hopes,  and  Carl  had  no 
doubts,  of  the  results  to  follow;  and  neither  were 
disappointed,  for  under  the  Christian  woman's  min- 
istrations the  forlorn  sinner,  for  the  first  time  since 
the  beginning  of  her  wayward  life  knowing  a  pure, 
disinterested  friend,  began  to  see  the  light  that  might 
be,  the  darkness  that  had  been,  in  their  true  contrast. 
She  secured  a  cottage  near  Mrs.  Hazelton's  house 
and,  living  in  daily  contact  with  that  lady's  pure  life 
and  helpful  friendship,  she  out  of  every  shame  began 
to  live  the  life  of  the  pure.  And  to  her  surprise  she 


UNCLE  CARL  253 

found  it  an  easy  thing  to  do.  Thoughts  of  the  old 
associates  and  occupations  drifted  farther  and  farther 
from  her.  Through  Mrs.  Hazelton's  efforts  she  se- 
cured employment,  clean  independence,  and  then  be- 
gan to  feel  the  influence  of  the  ever-present  but  un- 
obtrusive Christ  as  He  "knocked  at  the  door."  And 
she  grew  in  strength  day  by  day  until,  in  the  future, 
she  should  become  a  worker  in  the  vineyard — to 
Mrs.  Hazelton,  a  triumph  of  God's  redeeming  love; 
to  Carl,  the  triumph  of  principle,  the  proof  that  the 
germ  of  virtue,  if  placed  in  the  right  soil  where  its 
appropriate  nourishment  abounds,  shall  grow,  and 
expand  into  a  beautiful  plant.  He  believed  that  in 
every  person  is  implanted  the  germs  of  great  good  as 
well  as  of  great  evil.  If  either  be  nourished,  it  must 
be  largely  at  the  expense  of  the  other.  With  Lizzie 
Harding  the  evil  germs  had  had  most  nourishment  in 
her  youth,  and  the  resultant  growth  left  but  little 
room  for  virtue.  But  under  the  fostering  care  of  an- 
other gardener  the  germs  of  good  were  given  a 
chance  to  grow,  and  in  the  end  proved  so  much 
stronger  that  their  life  choked  utterly  the  ugly  weeds 
of  sin  and  shame. 

And  now  we  will  leave  the  two  women  to  their 
work,  while  we  follow  Carl  on  his  journey  North. 

His  first  objective  point  was  Chicago,  where  he  held 
a  consultation  with  his  friend  Courtright.  By  the 
lawyer's  advice  he  decided  not  only  to  make  no 
charge  against  Stanhope,  but  not  even  to  suggest  to 
him  that  there  was  any  suspicion  that  he  had  had  a 
hand  in  the  disappearance  of  Hattie  Cramer.  There 
was  ample  evidence,  supported  by  affidavits  of  Mrs. 
Hazelton  and  Hattie's  old  school  mistress,  to  prove 
to  the  satisfaction  of  the  court  that  the  girl  who  had 
died  was  not  the  heir  to  the  Cramer  estate,  and  that, 


254  UNCLE  CARL 

therefore,  the  property  could  not  be  yielded  to  Stan- 
hope as  heir-at-law  at  present.  Cramer's  daughter 
must  either  be  found,  dead  or  alive,  or  the  time  speci- 
fied by  statute  ere  she  could  be  declared  legally  dead 
elapse,  before  the  estate  could  be  settled.  It  would 
be  difficult,  however,  if  not  impossible,  to  produce 
proof  of  Stanhope's  complicity  in  the  girl's  disap- 
pearance, or  in  the  death  of  the  child  in  Mrs.  Hazel- 
ton's  charge,  that  would  be  conclusive  in  the  eyes  of 
the  court.  Until  such  proof  could  be  offered  in  evi- 
dence, as  would  make  a  positive  case,  our  friends 
deemed  it  wise  to  leave  the  villain  in  ignorance  of 
the  fact  that  he  was  under  suspicion.  Meanwhile, 
there  would  be  no  relaxation  of  effort  until  the  miss- 
ing ward  should  have  been  found. 

"And  now,  old  friend,"  said  Courtright,  after  dis- 
cussing various  questions,  "you  are  to  come  home 
with  me.  Now,  stop  your  noise.  I  won't  take  'no' 
for  an  answer.  Wife  expects  you,  and  so  does 
Hattie.  That  girl  is  a  gem,  Englewood.  I'll  go 
over  to  Kaloma  with  you  to  see  you  through  the  pro- 
bate business,  but  the  day  after  to-morrow  will  be 
ample  time." 

"Thank  you,  Courtright,"  said  Carl.  "It  is  good 
to  feel  that  I  have  a  place  at  your  fireside.  But  I 
don't  want  to  wear  out  my  welcome  there." 

"No  danger  of  that,"  rejoined  the  lawyer.  "The 
way  those  foolish  women  crack  you  up  makes  me 
feel  that  I  must  look  sharply  after  my  own  laurels." 

"Oh,  shucks!  Don't  try  to  swell  my  bump  of 
conceit,"  said  Englewood.  "It's  large  enough  now. 
But  really,  I  ought  to  run  up  to  the  University  this 
evening  on  a  little  matter  of  business." 

His  friend  looked  at  him  quizzically  for  a  mo- 
ment, and  then  abruptly  exclaimed,  "What's  the  use 


UNCLE  CARL  255 

of  going  there !  You  can  transact  your  'business'  just 
as  well  at  my  house,  or  I  am  much  mistaken." 

"No,  I  think  not,"  said  Carl.  "The  business  itself 
is  not  of  special  importance  just  now,  but  I  want  to 
see  a  party  that  I  met  some  time  ago,  who  has  since 
come  to  Chicago." 

"Now  see  here,  Mister  Secrecy,"  said  Courtright, 
"I  know  you  pretty  well,  and  you  are  coming  home 
with  me.  Listen.  The  day  before  yesterday  I 
brought  Hattie  down  with  me  to  do  some  shopping 
for  my  wife.  It  was  not  long  before  she  came 
bounding  into  my  office  followed  by  a  lad  of  about 
her  own  age.  'Oh,  Daddy,'  she  said — that's  what 
she  calls  me  now,  and  I'm  proud  of  it,  too, — 'who  do 
you  think  I  met  in  the  street  just  now?'  'Don't 
know,  youngster,'  I  said.  'Ralph,'  she  exclaimed, 
'Ralph  Deneen;  who,  except  Mr.  Englewood,  was 
the  only  true  friend  I  had  in  the  West,  and  then 
she  introduced  the  young  fellow;  a  clean,  intelligent 
lad,  I  think,  and  an  honest  one.  The  upshot  of  it 
was  that  he  was  invited  to  come  up  to  the  house  to- 
morrow for  luncheon.  So  you  see  you  can  do  your 
business  there  as  well  as  elsewhere,  eh?" 

"I'm  glad  that  Ralph  is  here,"  replied  Engle- 
wood. "But  why  do  you  assume  that  it  was  with  him 
that  I  had  business?" 

"Now,  now!  don't  try  to  pull  the  wool  over  my 
eyes,"  said  Courtright.  "Don't  I  know  you?  Be- 
sides, Ralph  told  us  that  he  was  here  to  enter  the 
University,  and  when  I  asked  him  if  you  hadn't  had 
a  hand  in  that,  he  said  that  he  had  promised  to  say 
nothing  about  who  was  helping  him.  But  I'm  a 
lawyer,  and  he  showed  me  more  than  he  knew. 
Englewood,  old  friend,  you  do  too  much  for  others 
for  your  own  good;  but  God  bless  you,  just  the  same. 


256  UNCLE  CARL 

I  wish  we  had  more  men  of  your  stamp  in  the  world. 
But  say,  you'll  come  home  with  me,  won't  you?" 

"I  ought  to  say  'no'  just  to  spite  you,"  said  Carl. 
"Blame  it  all!  can't  I  turn  around  but  that  some 
idiot  must  think  that  I'm  doing  a  philanthropic  stunt? 
I'll  go  up  with  you,  however.  But,  Courtright,  this 
matter  of  Ralph's  education  isn't  so  much.  I  like 
the  boy,  and  he  has  a  good,  honest  father.  Deneen, 
the  elder,  is  the  one  who  discovered  the  new  lead  in 
the  Pheasant  mine.  I  told  you  about  that.  And  as 
Ralph  has  the  making  of  a  good  and  useful  man,  I 
have  promised  his  father  to  look  after  him  a  little 
here.  It's  only  a  loan,  and  not  a  very  heavy  one  at 
that.  The  father  has  a  block  of  stock  in  the  new 
company,  and  there  is  no  question  but  that  when  the 
mine  gets  to  running  I  shall  have  the  little  outlay  of 
mine  paid  back  with  interest.  So  it's  really  just  a 
paying  investment." 

"All  right,  all  right,  Englewood,"  said  the  law- 
yer, "have  it  your  own  way;  only  I'll  think  of  it  in 
my  own  way,  too.  You've  got  a  lot  of  'investments' 
laying  around  that  won't  pay  you  a  cent  in  cash  divi- 
dends; but  I  wish  that  I  was  unselfish  enough  to 
have  half  as  many.  Lord!  Englewood,  what  a 
splendid  idiot  you  are!" 

"Dry  up !"  said  Carl.  "If  you  are  about  through 
with  your  slobbering  I  am  hungry  enough  to  masti- 
cate a  piece  of  decomposed  quartz.  Let's  go  home." 

"All  right;  we're  off,"  said  the  lawyer;  and  soon 
after  they  were  welcomed  home. 

If  Englewood  had  any  doubts  as  to  whether  or 
not  he  was  de  trop,  they  were  emphatically  removed 
by  the  greetings  he  received.  Mrs.  Courtright  and 
Hattie  Braton,  with  their  quiet  but  earnest  welcome 
and  the  children  with  their  effusive  frankness, 


UNCLE  CARL  257 

warmed  his  heart  to  the  core;  Beatrice,  snuggling 
up  on  his  lap  when  he  was  finally  seated,  voiced  the 
feeling  of  all  when  she  said,  "Uncle  Carl  is  just  the 
bestest  chum  ever  was." 

That  evening,  after  the  children,  in  care  of  Hattie, 
had  retired  for  the  night,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Courtright 
and  Carl  sat  on  the  open  porch,  enjoying  the  beauty 
of  the  "night  in  June."  The  lawyer  had  not  in- 
formed his  wife  of  the  details  of  Carl's  troubles;  but 
to-night  she  was  taken  into  their  confidence,  and  she 
did  much  to  lessen  the  severe  self-condemnation  that 
our  friend  harbored. 

"It  was  a  great  mistake,  it  is  true,"  she  said,  "that 
you  did  not  see  your  ward  personally;  but  you  did 
the  best  you  could,  as  you  had  light;  and  if  all  who 
make  mistakes  of  judgment  were  to  be  condemned 
because  of  the  evil  results  that  sometimes  follow,  I 
fear  that  none  of  us  would  be  very  happy.  If  things 
had  all  turned  out  right  in  this  case,  you  would  not 
question  the  wisdom  of  your  action." 

"That  is  true,"  answered  Carl,  "but  they  did  not 
turn  out  right,  and  I  therefore  think  I  am  culpable; 
for  I  should  have  so  acted  that  there  could  be  no 
possibility  of  such  a  miscarriage." 

"It  does  not  matter  how  careful  one  is,"  Mrs. 
Courtright  responded.  "If  there  are  evilly  disposed 
people  to  work  against  us  in  the  dark,  we  cannot  al- 
ways accomplish  good  results.  This  crime  was  the 
work  of  a  fiend;  and  I  do  not  see  that  you  could 
have  prevented  it  without  having  known  that  the 
crime  was  contemplated.  Such  a  person  would  ac- 
complish his  purpose  in  some  way  eventually,  and 
perhaps,  for  of  course  your  ward  will  be  found,  the 
way  in  which  he  worked  has  saved  her  from  the  fate 
17 


258  UNCLE  CARL 

of  the  little  girl  who  died  in  Florida.  The  ways  of 
God  are  past  finding  out.  Cheer  up,  friend,  all  will 
come  out  right.  You  once  quoted  me,  'It  is  not  pos- 
sible for  us  to  be  faultless,  it  is  possible  for  us  to  be 
blameless.'*  And  I  am  sure  that  you  are  to  be  held 
without  blame  in  this  matter,  in  spite  of  the  mistake." 

"You  give  me  comfort;  you  give  me  comfort," 
said  Carl.  Nevertheless,  I  must  ever  regret  my  short- 
sightedness." 

"Stanhope  must  be  a  very  devil,"  said  Courtright, 
"if  he  is  guilty  of  all  this;  and  there  certainly  seems 
to  be  no  doubt  but  that  he  is  at  the  bottom  of  it." 

"He  isn't  fit  to  live;  he  ought  to  be  hung!"  burst 
out  Englewood.  "By  heavens!  I  don't  know 
whether  I'll  be  able  to  keep  my  hands  off  him  when 
we  meet." 

"Why,  Mr.  Englewood,  see  here,  see  here!"  ex- 
claimed Mrs.  Courtright,  gently  laying  a  sympa- 
thetic hand  on  his  shoulder.  "I  never  knew  you  could 
harbor  such  feelings.  You're  tired  out,  poor  boy." 

"He's  right,"  interposed  the  lawyer.  "If  Stan- 
hope is  guilty,  he  deserves  the  worst." 

"Only  the  all  bad  deserves  the  worst,"  said  the 
lady,  "and  who  shall  say  that  Mr.  Stanhope  has  no 
good  in  him.  The  doctrine  of  an  eye  for  an  eye,  a 
tooth  for  a  tooth,  a  life  for  a  life,  may  be  a  good 
natural  law  in  the  material  world — the  law  of  com- 
pensation; but  is  it  good  law  in  the  spiritual?  Are 
we  to  forget  the  command,  'Thou  shalt  not  kill'?" 

"Pardon;  pardon,  my  friend!"  said  Carl.  "Of 
course  I  was  wrong.  But  I  have  worried  much  over 
this;  and  I  sometimes  get  so  exasperated  that  I  am 
afraid  my  temper  gets  the  better  of  me." 

"I  don't  wonder  at  that,  and  I  don't  blame  you 

»Dr.  John  Hall. 


UNCLE  CARL  259 

for  it,"  said  Mrs.  Courtright.  "But  still  I  cannot 
think  that  Mr.  Stanhope  is  altogether  bad.  I  don't, 
and  I  doubt  if  you  believe  in  the  total  depravity  of 
any  human  being;  though  many  are  so  clouded  with 
sin  that  one  cannot  clearly  see  the  good.  I  have  in 
mind  a  little  quotation  on  that  point  that  I  think  has 
done  me  good.  I  am  sorry  to  say  I  can  not  give  you 
the  author's  name: 


., , 


In    men    whom    men    pronounce    as    ill, 
I  find  so  much  of  goodness  still ; 
In  men  whom  men  pronounce  divine 
I  find  so  much  of  stain  and  blot; 
I  hesitate  to  draw  the  line, 
Since  God  has  not.' 

"And  so  I  often  blind  myself  to  the  evil  and  try 
to  see  only  the  good.  'Judge  not,  lest  ye  be  judged' 
is  a  good  rule.  Not  that  in  such  dastardly  crimes  as 
have  been  committed  with  your  ward  the  doer  should 
go  unpunished;  but  yet  I  think  that  I  would  first 
learn  whether  the  good  be  not  potent  enough  to  re- 
deem the  character  of  the  criminal,  ere  I  condemn 
him  utterly." 

Hattie  Braton  had  appeared  while  the  lady  was 
speaking,  and  nestled  up  to  her  with  an  approving 
caress.  Englewood,  who  heartily  enjoyed  an  argu- 
ment, disagreed  with  his  friend  in  some  measure. 

"I  don't  like  your  rule,"  he  said,  "because  of  the 
reason  given  for  it.  'Judge  not,  lest  ye  be  judged; 
for  with  what  judgment  ye  judge,  ye  shall  be  judged.' 
It  is  a  rule  that  tells  us  to  refrain  from  doing  a  neces- 
sary thing,  because  if  we  do  it  a  necessary  thing  shall 
be  done  to  us.  If  we  do  evil  we  should  be  judged, 
whether  we  judge  others  or  not.  If  we  do  not  evil 
we  need  not  fear  judgment.  I  would  change  the  rule 
to  'Judge  not  blindly,  lest  ye  do  an  injustice';  for 


26o  UNCLE  CARL 

it  is  absolutely  necessary  to  judge  our  fellows,  else 
would  society  be  chaos.  Often  I  have  found  that  the 
fear  of  judgment  is  more  potent  to  deter  one  from 
doing  evil  than  is  the  desire  to  do  good." 

"But  don't  you  think,"  said  Mrs.  Courtright,  "that 
save  in  those  greater  crimes,  that  threaten  the  de- 
struction of  life  and  liberty  and  the  stability  of  our 
social  institutions,  the  judgment  should  be  left  in  the 
hands  of  the  Creator?  What  are  we  that  we  should 
presume  to  say  of  this  or  that  person,  'he  is  bad.' 
We  do  not  know,  we  cannot  know  of  his  inner  life 
and  motives.  What  seems  to  us  in  action  evil,  may 
seem  to  him  a  step  toward  ultimate  perfection." 

"True,"  returned  Carl,  "we  are  not  infallible,  and 
therefore  we  must  use  great  care  in  the  exercise  of 
our  opinions.  We  must  judge  only  of  what  we  know 
and  that,  too,  without  prejudice.  We  must  judge 
those  with  whom  we  come  in  contact,  for  both  their 
good  and  ours  and  for  the  advancement  of  humanity 
at  large.  If  we  have  a  garden  of  Easter  lilies,  we 
may  enjoy  them,  profit  by  them,  be  elevated  by  their 
fragrance  and  symbolism.  The  dock-weed  is  a  no 
less  beautiful  form  of  life  when  analyzed,  and  it  has 
valuable  uses;  but  if  allowed  to  grow  in  our  garden 
of  Easter  lilies  it  would  soon  choke  and  destroy 
them.  Therefore  we  must  uproot  it  and  cast  it  out 
of  our  gardens;  not  to  destroy  the  species;  but  it 
should  grow  in  its  own  garden  and  not  be  allowed  to 
encroach  upon  and  destroy  the  life  of  our  chosen 
flowers.  Neither  should  we  destroy  the  dock-weed 
in  its  own  proper  soil  by  choking  it  out  with  an  abund- 
ance of  our  favorite ;  for  it  has  its  right  to  live.  As 
'missionaries'  we  may  strive  to  perfect  the  better 
qualities  of  the  dock-weeds,  making  of  them  a  per- 
fect garden  of  their  kind;  but  we  can  never  make 


UNCLE  CARL  261 

lilies  of  them.  So  with  humanity;  all  embody  good 
and  bad.  Should  I  find  a  being  with  whom  associa- 
tion would  be  inimical  to  the  proper  growth  of  my 
character,  it  is  my  duty  either  to  cast  him  out  of  my 
life  or  to  withdraw  my  life  from  his,  unless  I  can  so 
change  him  or  myself  as  that  we  may  live  in  juxtapo- 
sition without  injury  to  the  growth  of  either.  I  must 
separate  him  from  my  being,  not  to  destroy  his  life, 
not  to  condemn  him  utterly,  but  that  both  may  live 
in  their  appointed  fields  and  accomplish  their  allotted 
work.  To  illustrate  my  point,  I  will  be  a  bit  per- 
sonal. As  you  know,  I  have  a  father,  mother,  and 
several  brothers  and  sisters  living.  But  I  have  seen 
none  of  them  in  several  years,  and  may  never  see 
them  again.  I  found  during  my  youth  and  young 
manhood  that  my  nature  and  theirs  were  so  different 
that  there  was  constant  friction  between  us.  They 
had  no  sympathy  for  my  aims  and  work,  and  there 
was  much  in  them  that  seemed  wrong  in  principle 
from  my  viewpoint.  Doubtless  I  was  as  much  a 
thorn  in  their  sides  as  they  were  in  mine.  Neither, 
then,  could  develop  the  best  work  if  constantly  irri- 
tated by  the  other.  I  therefore  withdrew  from  the 
home.  Not  as  condemning  them,  but  that  each  might 
grow.  My  nature  is  such  that  I  could  not  live  inti- 
mately with  them,  and  both  be  happy;  and  there 
you  have  the  reason  for  my  homeless  state." 

"Poor  friend,"  said  Mrs.  Courtright,  "I  have 
often  wondered  why  you  never  spoke  of  your  rela- 
tives; they  must  have  been  very  bad  for  you  to  feel 
it  necessary  to  take  such  a  stand." 

"Remember  your  quotation,"  said  Carl;  "  'Judge 
not.'  It  may  be  that  I  am  the  black  sheep.  At  any 
rate,  I  do  not  condemn  them.  I  simply  withdrew 
from  the  home  in  the  interests  of  peace." 


262  UNCLE  CARL 

"But  how  about  the  tie  of  blood,  the  natural  af- 
fection of  relatives?  The  'mother-love' — surely  Mr. 
Englewood,  there  is  nothing  stronger  in  this  life  than 
that" 

"Yes,  there  is,"  responded  Carl.  "I  do  not  deny 
that  'blood  is  thicker  than  water.'  The  natural  af- 
fection must  exist.  But  you  have  the  Master's  dic- 
tum, 'A  man's  foes  shall  be  of  his  own  household. 
He  that  loveth  father  and  mother  more  than  me  is 
not  worthy  of  me.'*  To  you  the  Master  is  a  per- 
son; to  me  he  personified  a  principle.  That  prin- 
ciple was  and  is  stronger  with  me  than  the  ties  of 
blood."  _ 

"But  it  seems  to  me,  old  friend,"  put  in  the  lawyer, 
"that  you  are  losing  much  of  happiness  by  your 
course.  You  lose  the  comforts  and  affection  of  home 
for  conscience's  sake,  and  that  is  good  in  theory.  But 
a  little  policy,  a  little  yielding  would  give  you  much 
of  joy.  I  know  it  because  I  have  my  little  circle  here 
that  is  to  me  second  only  to  the  home  'over  the  bor- 
der.' Have  you  any  right  to  lock  the  door  against 
yourself  as  well  as  against  your  kith  and  kin,  when 
by  a  little  yielding  so  much  happiness  might  be  given 
to  each?" 

"I  think  we  are  wandering  from  the  question," 
said  Carl.  "I  merely  spoke  of  myself  in  illustration 
of  my  conception  of  the  necessity  of  judgment.  But 
I  am  surprised  that  you,  Courtright,  should  counsel 
anything  but  rigidity  in  a  matter  of  conscience.  It 
was  no  easy  thing  for  me  to  reach  my  decision;  but 
having  done  so,  and  acted  in  accordance  with  it,  I 
have,  I  confess,  lost  much  of  the  pleasure  of  life,  but 
I  have  gained  manyfold  more  of  happiness  than  I 
could  have  done  otherwise." 

•Matt.  x:s6,  37. 


UNCLE  CARL  263 

"Oh,  I  would  not  presume  to  dictate  to  you  on 
such  a  matter,"  said  Courtright.  "You  are  too  stub- 
born for  me  to  handle  anyway.  But  I  have  had  so 
much  from  a  happy  home,  both  during  my  younger 
days  and  since  my  marriage,  that  I  am  sure  any  sac- 
rifice short  of  dishonor  would  be  a  small  price  to  pay 
for  such  felicity.  I'll  leave  it  to  Hattie  if  I'm  not 
right;  she  looks  as  if  she  wanted  to  say  something. 
Out  with  it,  youngster." 

"Yes,  Miss  Braton,"  said  Englewood,  "let  us  have 
your  judgment.  Has  my  stand  been  well  taken?" 

"Oh,  daddy,"  said  Hattie,  looking  blushingly  at 
Courtright,  "I — I  think  we  ought  to  feel  very  sorry 
for  Mr.  Englewood;  I  think  he  has  done  right, 
because  he  did  what  he  thought  was  right.  But  I 
believe  that,  if  he  can't  go  back  to  his  home,  he  ought 
at  least  to  leave  the  door  of  his  heart  open,  so  that 
his  brothers  and  sisters  can  come  in  and  see  what  a 
splendid,  noble  heart  it  is,  and  help  him  with  his 
Easter  lilies."  And  then  the  girl  buried  her  face 
on  Mrs.  Courtright's  shoulder.  "Oh,  mother,"  she 
whispered  with  a  sob,  so  low  that  the  men  did  not 
hear,  "he  is  such  a  glorious  man,  it  breaks  my  heart 
to  see  him  so  lonely.  Come  in  the  house,  please." 

After  the  ladies  withdrew,  the  men  sat  for  some 
time  in  silence,  and  then  Englewood  arose,  and 
throwing  away  his  cigar  said  musingly,  as  he  walked 
toward  the  door,  "If  I  were  not  twice  her  years  I 
should  mistrust  the  feeling  that  that  little  girl  stirs 
up  within  me.  How  she  reminds  me  of  my  lost 
pearl."  And  then  recollecting  himself  he  extended 
his  hand  to  Courtright  and  the  two  friends  parted 
for  the  night. 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

The  following  morning  Courtright  departed  early 
for  the  city,  whither  Englewood  would  follow  in 
time  for  the  evening  boat.  The  children,  after  a 
romp  with  "Uncle  Carl,"  had  gone  to  play  with  some 
of  the  neighboring  little  folk;  and  our  friend  and 
Miss  Braton  were  strolling  about  the  borders  of  the 
little  lake.  Englewood  broke  a  silence  of  some  min- 
utes by  saying: 

"Miss  Braton,  when  I  leave  you  to-day  it  may  be 
a  long  time,  perhaps  years,  before  I  see  you  again. 
I  have  a  work  to  do  that  will  probably  take  me  West, 
and  my  stay  will  be  of  uncertain  duration.  Before 
I  go  I  want  to  make  you  feel  perfectly  easy  about 
what  it  is  my  privileged  purpose  to  do  for  you.  I 
believe  in  you  thoroughly,  and  know  that  you  will 
make  good  use  of  your  opportunities.  You  are  not 
to  worry  one  bit  about  being  a  burden  upon  me,  for 
I  do  not  undertake  more  than  I  can  perform;  and 
I  am  honest  when  I  say  that  I  am  glad  to  be  able  to 
help  you  in  this  way,  and  would  be  very  sorry  if  the 
privilege  were  taken  from  me." 

"You  know  that  I  thank  you,  Mr.  Englewood," 
said  Hattie;  "how  much,  I  cannot  express.  I  know 
now  that  had  it  not  been  for  you  my  whole  life  would 
have  been  worse  than  a  wreck;  and  I  shall  certainly 
do  my  utmost  to  justify  your  confidence  in  me." 

"There  is  one  thing  that  I  would  urge,"  said  Carl, 
"and  that  is,  keep  out  of  any  form  of  debt  as  far  as 
possible.  I  want  you,  if  in  need  of  anything,  to  let 
me  know  of  it.  Give  me  the  privilege  of  helping 
you  in  any  way  possible.  Not  that  I  am  going  to 


UNCLE  CARL  265 

burden  you  with  a  debt  to  me  for  anything  unneces- 
sary; but  it  may  be  that  you  will  find  something 
more  is  needed  than  I  have  planned  for,  and  in  that 
case  I  want  to  see  that  you  have  all  that  is  conducive 
to  the  best  results.  Of  course,  you  are  to  be  as  inde- 
pendent as  you  have  expressed  the  desire  to  be,  and 
it  is  to  be  your  right  to  repay  me  in  the  future;  but 
while  you  are  getting  ready  for  your  future  work, 
let  nothing  be  neglected  that  may  be  conducive  to 
your  highest  success." 

"Again  I  thank  you,"  said  the  girl;  ubut,  Mr. 
Englewood,  I  hope,  after  a  little,  to  be  able  to  earn 
some  small  amounts  during  my  spare  hours.  I  may 
claim  the  right,  may  I  not,  to  use  my  own  earnings 
toward  my  education?" 

"Of  course,  of  course,"  said  Englewood.  "You 
are  to  be  your  own  mistress.  I  only  stipulate  that  if 
more  is  needed  I  may  be  allowed  to  supply  the  de- 
ficiency. You  promise,  do  you  not?" 

"I  do,  and  most  gratefully,"  answered  Hattie. 

"And  now,  another  thing,"  said  Carl.  "While  I 
am  away  I  want  you  to  write  to  me.  I  am  more 
deeply  interested  in  your  career  than  I  can  say,  and  I 
would  keep  in  touch  with  you;  know  of  your  inner 
self,  as  well  as  of  your  work;  and  perhaps  I  may  be 
able  to  help  you  in  other  ways  than  we  know  of  now. 
Will  you  do  this?" 

"It  would  be  a  privilege,  Mr.  Englewood,"  said 
Hattie.  "But,  oh,  I  wonder  why  it  is  that  you  take 
this  interest  in  me  ?  What  is  there  about  me  that  you 
should  do  so  much  for  me?" 

"A  pure  heart,  a  willing  mind,  a  strong  will  and 
ambition  to  do,  and  withal  a  strange,  elusive  quality 
that  reminds  me  strongly  of  one  very  dear  to  me, 
who  passed  out  of  my  life  long  years  ago.  These 


266  UNCLE  CARL 

are  the  things  that  make  me  want  to  do  for  you," 
answered  Englewood. 

"I  hope  that  you  will  not  be  disappointed  in  me, 
Mr.  Englewood,"  said  Hattie.  "But  1  fear  that  you 
have  a  too  flattering  opinion  of  one  whom  you  found 
in  such  low  surroundings ;  though  I  shall  try  to  prove 
worthy  of  your  great  kindness." 

"I  am  sure  of  it,"  returned  Carl,  "and  do  not  fear 
the  result.  Don't  worry,  little  girl,  over  the  past. 
Forget  where  I  found  you,  save  as  the  memory  of 
it  may  serve  as  a  warning,  and  keep  you  from  similar 
danger  in  the  future.  As  for  your  own  personality, 
your  character,  remember  that  most  beautiful  and 
gorgeous  flowers  grow  in  swamps  and  in  poisonous 
atmospheres;  and  dear  old  Mark  Twain  found 
midst  the  dreary  barrenness  of  Monte  Rosa's  eternal 
snows*  a  little  forget-me-not.  So  the  flowers  of 
truth  and  purity  abound  everywhere.  They  are 
found  in  the  swamps,  midst  foul  associates;  and  au- 
stere science,  when  climbing  amid  the  apparently  cold, 
unfeeling  rocks  of  philosophy,  finds  the  God-head 
represented  there  by  a  forget-me-not.  Eternal  law 
prevails  everywhere;  and  one  cannot  successfully 
conceal  one's  real  character  for  long,  in  spite  of  en- 
vironment. Carrion  remains  carrion,  no  matter  how 
much  we  may  deluge  it  with  cologne;  and  goodness, 
purity,  truth,  equally  persistent,  cannot  be  concealed 
beyond  discovery  even  in  Satan's  strongholds.  And 
so  you,  it  matters  not  whence  you  come,  I  believe  to 
be  a  flower  that  is  well  worthy  of  a  place  in  the  Gar- 
den of  Life.  You  have  been  transplanted  from  the 
swamps  to  grow  more  freely  in  this  pure  atmosphere, 
and  I  have  no  fear  that  my  belief  in  you  was  unwar- 

»"A  Tramp  Abroad,"  Bk.  II,  Ch.  V. 


UNCLE  CARL  267 

ranted;  no  doubt  but  that  a  high  success  will  crown 
our  efforts.  And  now  let  us  join  Mrs.  Courtright; 
she  seems  to  be  looking  for  us." 

"Well,  children,"  that  lady  said  as  they  ap- 
proached, "I  suppose  you  are  all  tired  out  from  your 
long  morning's  play." 

"I  don't  know  how  the  little  girl  feels,"  replied 
Carl,  drawing  himself  up  to  his  full  height,  "but  I 
am  quite  rested  for  such  a  little  kid." 

Mrs.  Courtright  smiled.  "Do  you  know,"  she 
said,  "I  never  seem  to  get  over  being  surprised  at 
seeing  you  so  childlike.  You  are  such  a  tall,  dignified 
man,  and  usually  so  quiet,  that  one  would  never  sus- 
pect you  of  nonsense.  What  have  you  two  been 
doing?" 

"Preaching,"  said  Carl. 

"Listening,"  said  Hattie. 

"Well,  I  think  that  I'll  take  up  the  collection," 
said  Mrs.  Courtright.  "Come  over  to  this  seat,  little 
girl  and  boy." 

"Yes,  ma'am,"  the  two  responded,  meekly  follow- 
ing to  a  rustic  bench. 

"I  isn't  got  no  penny,"  said  Carl,  mimicking  a 
child's  voice. 

"Neizer  has  I,"  said  Hattie. 

"Well,  in  that  case,  I  think  my  collection  must  be 
made  up  entirely  of  information,"  said  Mrs.  Court- 
right  as  she  seated  herself.  "Really,  to  be  serious,  I 
wish  you  would  tell  me  about  our  to-day's  visitor, 
Mr.  Englewood.  Who  and  what  is  Ralph  Deneen? 
Hattie  has  only  told  me  that  he  was  a  staunch  little 
friend  to  you  both." 

"There  isn't  much  to  tell,"  replied  Englewood. 
"Ralph's  mother  died  when  he  was  three  years  old. 
His  father — a  patient,  honest,  hard-working  man — 


268  UNCLE  CARL 

brought  him  up  as  best  he  could,  sending  him  to 
school  as  soon  as  he  was  old  enough;  but  otherwise 
he  was  too  poor  to  do  much  more  for  the  boy  than 
to  keep  him  in  food  and  clothes.  He  was  constant, 
however,  in  urging  him  to  form  the  habits  of  sterling 
honesty  and  perseverance.  Ralph  was  an  exception- 
ally bright  boy,  and  loyal  through  and  through.  As 
the  father  was  at  work  in  the  mines  all  day,  Ralph's 
hours  out  of  school  were  spent  for  the  most  part 
with  the  children  of  the  street;  and  he  was  a  king 
among  them.  All  of  them  looked  up  to  and  admired 
the  sturdy,  self-reliant  youngster,  who  ruled  them 
with  a  strong  hand.  But,  as  I  often  had  occasion  to 
observe,  he  was  always  just,  never  a  bully.  At  school 
he  was  exceptionally  able,  and  graduated  near  the 
head  of  his  class.  He  had  a  special  ability  in  mathe- 
matics, and  a  boyish  but  intelligent  interest  in  all 
things  pertaining  to  machinery.  Having  had  fre- 
quent opportunities  to  watch  him,  I  concluded  that, 
if  he  could  only  be  given  the  chance,  he  would  grow 
to  be  an  exceptionally  able  man.  His  father,  wishing 
to  do  the  best  he  could  for  the  lad,  has  sent  him  here, 
and  I  promised  to  see  him  started  on  the  road,  taking 
up  civil  and  mechanical  engineering  if  he  proves  his 
fitness.  It  will  be  necessary  probably  for  him  to  give 
a  year  or  so  to  preliminary  study,  before  entering  the 
University.  His  language,  though  never  profane,  is 
that  of  the  boys  of  the  street,  slangy  and  full  of 
strange  idioms.  But  that  will  quickly  wear  off.  He 
is  at  heart  courageous,  ambitious,  honest,  and  loyal, 
and  I  have  no  doubt  that  you  will  like  him.  I  am 
just  a  bit  curious,  myself,  as  to  how  he  will  act  in 
your  'high  society,'  my  lady.  I  have  never  seen  him 
save  in  rough  surroundings.  But  I  believe  that  his 


UNCLE  CARL  269 

courage  will  carry  him  through,  even  if  diffidence 
does  urge  him  to  turn  and  run." 

"But  it's  going  to  be  quite  an  undertaking  if  his 
father  is  so  poor,"  said  Mrs.  Courtright.  "The  ex- 
penses of  Chicago  life  are  rather  heavy." 

"Oh,  the  expenses  will  be  cared  for,"  said  Carl. 
"Besides,  the  lad  is  one  of  the  kind  that  will  make 
his  way.  He's  a  worker,  and  will  find  ways  to  get 
on  and  keep  up  his  studies,  too." 

"Oh,  you  simple  fellow !"  said  the  lady.  "Don't 
you  suppose  that  I  know  who'll  pay  his  expenses? 
Why  will  you  give  away  so  much  when  you  need  a 
rest  yourself?" 

"His  father,"  said  Carl,  ignoring  the  question, 
"has  some  shares  in  the  Pheasant  mine  that  Court- 
right  is  interested  in,  and  is  besides  a  steady,  hard 
worker.  If  the  boy  needs  more  than  he  can  earn, 
the  father  will  see  that  the  cost  is  paid." 

"I  know  Ralph  pretty  well,"  said  Hattie,  "and  I 
am  sure  that  he  will  not  be  a  burden  to  any  one  for 
long.  He  will  make  his  way  all  right,  and  will  be  a 
help  rather  than  a  burden  after  he  gets  started.  I 
know  you  will  like  him,  mother." 

"It  must  be  about  time  for  him  now,"  said  Carl, 
looking  at  his  watch.  "I  believe  I'll  go  over  to  the 
station  and  meet  the  youngster. 

"Yes,  do,"  said  Hattie,  "and  we  will  go  too,  if 
mother  is  willing." 

"Why,  yes,"  said  Mrs.  Courtright;  "I  am  quite 
interested  in  the  lad." 

"He'll  be  surprised  to  see  you,  though,  Mr.  Engle- 
wood,"  said  Hattie.  "I  told  him  that  you  were  in 
Florida.  You  know  we  did  not  expect  you  for  sev- 
eral days  yet." 

As  they  strolled  toward  the  station,  Englewood 


270  UNCLE  CARL 

told  of  several  interesting  characteristics  of  the  sturdy 
little  Western  lad;  but  Mrs.  Courtright,  who  had 
been  often  mistaken  in  the  characters  of  those  to 
whom  she  had  extended  the  helping  hand,  was  in- 
clined to  be  incredulous  of  the  worth  of  the  boy.  It 
was  with  quick  interest,  however,  that  she  saw  a  well- 
dressed,  clear-eyed,  athletic  young  man  dash  from 
the  train  across  the  platform  toward  Carl,  exclaim- 
ing: 

"Why,  I'm  blamed  if  'tain't  Mr.  Englewood.  I 
didn't  guess  as  what  youse  would  be  here.  You're 
all  right,  you  bet!"  and  he  eagerly  grasped  Carl's 
outstretched  hand. 

"Glad  to  see  you,  Ralph,  glad  to  see  you,"  said 
Englewood.  "My,  but  you  don't  look  fit  to  play 
mibs  in  that  rig.  You're  looking  well,  my  boy." 

"Yes,"  said  Ralph,  "these  togs  ain't  jest  the  thing 
to  knuckle  down  in,  but  you  see  dad  thought  as  how 
I'd  got  to  be  a  gent  now,  and  so  he  fixed  me  up  a  bit. 
But  youse  ain't  lookin'  none  to  scrumptious.  Has 
yer  been  sick?" 

"No,  no,  boy,"  said  Carl;  "but  I've  been  traveling 
for  some  days,  and  haven't  got  thoroughly  rested  yet; 
but  let  me  introduce  you  to  my  very  good  friend, 
Mrs.  Courtright.  This  is  Ralph  Deneen,  Mrs. 
Courtright."  Ralph  awkwardly  removed  his  hat, 
and  bowed;  but  the  lady,  quick  in  her  likes  and  dis- 
likes, extended  her  hand,  and  with  cordial  words 
welcomed  him.  Hattie  joined  with  her  greeting,  and 
they  all  then  started  for  home.  Ralph  was  ignorant 
of  the  amenities  of  social  life,  and  knew  it.  He  was 
by  nature  frank  and  honest,  however,  and  in  spite  of 
his  natural  diffidence  due  to  the  unaccustomed  society 
of  the  "swell  lady,"  and  his  dress  and  surroundings, 
he  impressed  his  hostess  favorably.  The  two  walked 


UNCLE  CARL  271 

together,  Hattie  and  Carl  being  some  paces  ahead; 
and  Mrs.  Courtright's  heart  warmed  to  the  boy 
when,  Englewood's  name  having  been  mentioned, 
Ralph's  tongue  was  loosened,  and  with  glistening  eyes 
he  expressed  his  admiration  and  respect  for  his 
friend.  His  language  was  far  from  polished;  slang 
abounded;  but  his  heart  spoke,  and  the  lady  smiled 
genially  at  the  oft  repeated,  "He's  all  right,  you 
bet!" 

"You  evidently  think  a  great  deal  of  Mr.  Engle- 
wood,"  she  said.  "Was  he,  then,  such  a  good  friend 
to  you  ?" 

"You  bet  he  was!"  said  Ralph  earnestly;  "and  to 
all  the  rest  'uv  of  the  kids,  too.  Why,  there  ain't  a 
kid  in  the  hull  Gulch  but  whut'll  tell  you  that  Mister 
Englewood  is  jest  the  hull  cheese,  and  the  biggest 
cheese  in  the  country,  too.  He  was  a  swell  gent  out 
there,  but  he  used  to  be  jest  as  decent  to  us  fellers  as 
though  we  was  King  Ed  's  kids.  He  used  to  play 
mibs  with  us  and  scrub  ball,  and  twict  he  took  the 
hull  gang  to  the  circus,  and  sometimes  to  the  opera 
house  when  something  good  was  on.  But  he  wouldn't 
let  any  of  the  boys  cuss.  He  said  real  gents  didn't 
use  cuss-words,  and  he  didn't  like  to  'sociate  with  any 
but  gents,  'nd  so  the  kids  jest  natterally  stopped 
swearin',  cause  they  wanted  to  be  friends  with  him." 

"Wasn't  that  a  sort  of  bribe?"  said  Mrs.  Court- 
right.  "You  boys,  weren't  you  good  just  so  that  Mr. 
Englewood  would  take  you  to  the  shows?" 

"No,  ma'am!"  said  Ralph  heatedly.  "Youse 
couldn't  bribe  those  kids  no  way.  They  behaved 
theirselves  jest  because  they  lovecl  Mr.  Englewood. 
That's  it,  we  jest  loved  him.  There  wasn't  one  of 
the  gang  but  what  would  have  gone  to  purgatory  for 
him  if  he'd  uv  asked  it.  An'  he's  one  of  the  bravest 


272  UNCLE  CARL 

gents  I  ever  seen,  too.  Why!  I  knowed  him  to  go 
inter  Squinty-eyed  Pete's  place,  the  toughest  joint  in 
Montana,  when  it  was  full  of  drunks,  and  took  a 
girl  out  singlehanded.  I  don't  believe  ther's  another 
man  in  the  hull  blamed  mines  that  cud  'uv  done  it. 
And  that  girl  was  Miss  Braton,  too;  but  you've 
prob'ly  hearn  of  that.  Oh,  you  bet,  Mr.  Engle- 
wood's  all  right!" 

"No,  I  haven't  heard  the  particulars  about  his  res- 
cue of  Hattie  Braton,"  said  Mrs.  Courtright.  "Her 
life  in  the  West  was  a  sad  one,  and  I  have  tried  to 
not  stir  up  bitter  memories.  But  I  would  like  to 
hear  how  Mr.  Englewood  saved  her,  if  you  will  tell 
me." 

Nothing  loth,  Ralph  entered  into  the  history  of 
the  adventure,  so  far  as  he  knew  it;  though  his 
knowledge  of  the  details  of  the  rescue  were  very 
meagre;  and  finished  his  tale  just  as  they  reached 
home.  Mrs.  Courtright  was  much  moved;  admira- 
tion for  Englewood  mingling  with  her  sympathy  for 
the  girl  who  had  passed  through  such  a  terrible  expe- 
rience. She  took  Ralph's  arm  as  they  entered  the 
gate. 

"I  know,"  she  said,  "that  Mr.  Englewood  has 
high  expectations  of  your  future.  He  sacrifices  his 
whole  life  for  others.  See  that  you  do  not  disap- 
point him  in  your  life;  for  I  am  sure  that  it  is  to  his 
efforts  that  you  owe  your  present  opportunities.  He 
is  a  very  lonely  man,  and  it  is  little  that  we  can  do  for 
him  save  to  see  that  his  labors  shall  not  be  in  vain. 
God  never  made  a  nobler  man,"  she  said  fervently 
"nor  Satan  a  more  dastardly  villain  than  the  one  who 
would  do  him  wrong." 

"Right  you  are,  ma'am,"  said  Ralph.  "I  hope  I 
may  be  struck  dead  if  I  ever  do  a  thing  to  make  him 


UNCLE  CARL  273 

sorry.  He's  the  whitest  gent  in  the  hull  blamed  me- 
nagerie. You  bet  he  jest  is!" 

After  an  hour  of  chatting  under  the  trees,  the 
children  were  called  and  all  adjourned  to  the  house, 
where  luncheon  was  served.  Ralph's  diffidence  disap- 
peared under  the  cordial  friendliness  of  his  hostess 
and  her  family;  and  he  proved  to-  be  a  capital  enter- 
tainer, especially  to  the  youngsters,  who  listened  with 
bright  eyes  as  he  was  led  to  tell  in  his  odd  way  of 
some  of  his  experiences  in  the  West.  Englewood, 
however,  was  first  in  their  eyes,  and  it  was  he  that 
the  two  little  girls  clambered  upon  as  soon  as,  the 
repast  over,  they  were  again  seated  by  the  lakeside. 

"Arthur  doesn't  seem  to  be  feeling  very  well," 
said  Mrs.  Courtright,  "and  I  have  made  him  lie  down 
on  the  couch.  I  am  a  little  worried  about  him,  for  he 
is  rarely  ill." 

"I  knows;  I  knows  ze  matter,"  said  little  Beatrice, 
"Artie's  puffed." 

"Puffed,"  said  the  mother;  "what  do  you  mean, 
dear?" 

"Des  puffed  and  puffed,"  said  Beatrice;  "and  zen 
he  was  offul  sick,  'nd  his  beckfus  corned  up." 

"Mary,  why  didn't  you  tell  me,"  said  Mrs.  Court- 
right.  "I  must  send  for  a  doctor  at  once.  Excuse 
me,  good  people,  but  I  must  go  in  at  once.  Poor 
boy,  I  didn't  know  he  was  so  ill."  As  the  lady  started 
for  the  house,  a  sudden  thought  caused  Englewood 
to  stop  her. 

"I  have  an  idea  that  I  know  what  is  the  matter," 
he  said.  "Mary,  wasn't  Arthur  trying  to  smoke?" 

"Yes,"  said  Mary.  "He  just  found  one  of  papa's 
cigars  what  he  left  in  the  barn,  'nd  I  told  him  it  was 
naughty;  but  he  said  he  guessed  if  papa  and  Uncle 
18 


274  UNCLE  CARL 

Carl  could  smoke  he  could,  'nd  then  he  smoked  and 
smoked,  and  pretty  soon  he  jest  womited  all  over." 

"Poor  boy,"  said  Mrs.  Courtright.  "He  has 
learned  his  lesson,  I  guess,  but  I  must  give  him  a 
good  scolding." 

"Don't  do  that,"  said  Carl.  "I  remember  just 
how  I  felt  about  smoking  when  I  was  a  boy.  It 
seemed  such  a  manly  thing  to  do.  And  boys  like  to 
be  men,  just  as  a  little  girl  likes  to  tie  a  big  shawl 
around  her  waist  and  then  strut  around  with  it  trail- 
ing behind  her,  pretending  to  be  a  lady.  Let  me  talk 
to  Arthur  when  he  comes  out." 

"Very  well,"  said  Mrs.  Courtright;  "but  I've  told 
Arthur  time  and  again  that  he  mustn't  smoke,  and  he 
really  should  be  punished." 

"I  think  that  I  can  give  him  a  lesson  that  he  will 
not  forget,"  said  Carl. 

"You  bet  he  can,  ma'am,"  chimed  in  Ralph.  "Mis- 
ter Englewood  cured  lots  of  us  kids  of  hittin'  terbac- 
cer." 

The  conversation  then  drifted  to  indifferent  topics, 
and  an  hour  or  so  passed  swiftly  by.  It  was  nearing 
time  for  Carl  to  return  to  the  city  when  Arthur  ap- 
peared, coming  slowly  over  the  lawn.  As  he  neared 
them,  Englewood  said, 

"Hello,  Arthur.  You  are  just  the  boy  I  wanted 
to  see.  Do  you  suppose  you  can  find  me  an  ax?" 

"Why,  yes,  Uncle  Carl,"  said  Arthur,  "I  can  get 
you  papa's  ax  out  of  the  shed." 

"All  right,  bring  it  here,  will  you,"  said  Carl, 
turning  to  Mrs.  Courtright.  "You  don't  mind,  do 
you,  if  I  cut  a  big  gash  in  one  of  these  trees?  It  will 
not  harm  it,  and  it  will  be  an  object-lesson  that  I  think 
Arthur  can  comprehend  more  readily  than  he  would 
a  lecture." 


UNCLE  CARL  275 

"Of  course,  do  what  you  want,"  said  the  lady.  "I 
am  curious  to  know  what  it  is,  though." 

"Wait  and  see,"  said  Carl.  Soon  Arthur  appeared, 
carrying  a  large  ax. 

"Here  it  is,  Uncle  Carl,"  he  said.  "My!  it's 
heavy." 

Englewood,  taking  the  ax,  bade  Arthur  watch  him, 
and  swinging  it  swiftly  over  his  shoulder  he  buried 
the  blade  in  the  trunk  of  one  of  the  large  maples. 

"Oh,  Uncle  Carl!  What  did  you  do  that  for? 
Are  you  going  to  cut  it  down?"  exclaimed  the  boy. 

"No,  Arthur,  I'm  not  going  to  cut  the  tree  down, 
and  I  did  that  just  to  show  you  something  that  I'll 
explain  later,"  said  Englewood  as  he  withdrew  the 
ax,  and  stepping  to  a  small  tree  that,  but  two  or 
three  inches  in  diameter,  had  been  planted  the  pre- 
ceding year.  "Now  Arthur,"  swinging  the  ax  to  his 
shoulder,  "suppose  I  strike  this  tree  just  as  I  did  the 
other,  what  would  happen?" 

"Why,  it  would  kill  it,"  said  the  boy. 

"But  won't  the  cut  I  gave  the  other  tree  kill  it?" 
asked  Englewood. 

"No,  of  course  not,"  said  Arthur.  "It's  too  old 
and  too  big  to  kill  that  way;  but  this  is  such  a  little 
tree." 

"All  right  then,  I'll  let  it  alone,"  said  Carl.  "Now, 
my  boy,  let's  sit  down  on  this  bench.  You,  Ralph," 
as  the  others  gathered  about,  "take  Miss  Braton  and 
the  two  youngsters  and  go  feed  the  swans.  We  don't 
want  you  here.  Yes,  you  may  stay,  Mrs.  Court- 
right." 

"All  right,  Mr.  Englewood,"  said  Ralph.  "What 
you  says  goes,  every  time,"  and  the  young  people 
moved  away. 

Mr.  Englewood  put  his  arm  about  Arthur,  and 


276  UNCLE  CARL 

drew  him  close  to  his  side.  "You  poor  boy,"  he  said, 
"you  have  been  real  sick,  haven't  you?" 

"Yes,  I  have  been  so  sick  to  my  stomach,"  said 
Arthur;  "but  I  didn't  let  on  to  you,  Uncle  Carl. 
How  did  you  know  it?" 

"Oh,  I  have  had  a  similar  experience,"  said  Carl. 
"Ha,  ha !  How  well  I  remember  it.  I  was  just 
about  your  age,  and  my  older  brother  was  a  great 
smoker.  I  always  thought  he  looked  so  fine  with  his 
big  meerschaum  pipe,  and  one  day  when  he  had  gone 
out  and  his  pipe  was  lying  on  the  table,  I  filled  it  with 
tobacco,  and  went  out  in  the  woodshed  for  my  first 
smoke.  My !  oh  my !  how  big  I  felt  as  I  puffed 
away.  But  it  wasn't  long  before,  somehow,  I  didn't 
feel  so  good.  I  began  to  feel  all  trembly  and 
swimmy.  And  then  I  thought  I'd  go  in  the  house 
and  lie  down;  but  when  I  stood  up — oh,  oh!  how 
sick  I  was ;  and  all  of  my  good  dinner,  my !  oh  my ! 
it  all  spilled  out  and  I  just  lay  down,  about  the  sick- 
est little  boy  that  ever  was.  It  was  a  long  time  be- 
fore I  got  over  it,  and  I  never  tried  to  smoke  again 
until  many  years  afterward.  You  see,  Arthur,  to- 
bacco is  a  poison,  and  only  those  who  are  strong  and 
vigorous  can  safely  use  it.  It  is  always  a  poison, 
though  it  has  its  good  uses,  and  is  actually  beneficial 
for  some  people.  But  it  is  never  good  for  growing 
boys.  When  a  boy  has  grown  to  be  a  strong  man, 
if  he  chooses  to  contract  so  expensive  and,  in  the  eyes 
of  many,  so  disagreeable  a  habit,  he  may  do  so  with- 
out very  bad  results  to  himself,  because  he  is  strong 
enough  to  overcome  the  bad  effects  of  the  poison; 
just  as  that  strong,  full-grown  maple  tree  will  over- 
come the  ill  effects  of  that  cut  with  the  ax,  and  will 
continue  to  live  and  give  its  beautiful  shade  in  spite 
of  the  scar.  But  when  a  young  boy  gets  the  habit  of 


t  ^  /  / 

smoking  it  has  the  same  effect  as  would  that  blow 
of  the  ax  if  given  to  the  young  tree.  It  might  kill 
it;  it  is  sure  to  stunt  it;  and  it  could  never  grow 
into  a  beautiful,  perfect  tree.  You  see,  the  young 
tree  is  not  yet  strong  enough  to  stand  the  shock ;  and 
growing  boys  are  not  strong  enough  to  overcome  the 
effects  of  the  poison  in  tobacco.  Boys  can't  smoke 
and  at  the  same  time  grow  up  strong,  healthy,  good 
men;  and  we  want  our  Arthur  to  be  the  best  and 
strongest  and  healthiest  man  in  the  world.  Do  you 
see,  my  boy,  what  I  am  driving  at?" 

"Yes,  I  do,  Uncle  Carl,"  said  Arthur.  "But  I 
never  thought  of  it  in  that  way.  I  just  thought  if 
papa  and  you  smoked,  it  would  be  all  right  for  me  to 
smoke  too." 

"But  you  found  that  it  wasn't  all  right,  didn't 
you?"  smiled  Carl.  "You  see,  there  are  many  things 
that  full-grown  men  can  do,  that  boys  cannot,  or 
should  not  do;  just  as  there  are  many  things  that  the 
mother  can  do  that  you  would  think  Sister  Mary  very 
foolish  to  attempt.  You  will  be  a  man  before  many 
years,  and  then,  if  you  want  to,  you  may  follow  the 
habit  that  foolish  old  Uncle  Carl  do'es ;  but  you  will 
never  be  much  of  a  man  if  you  do  it  now.  But  I 
guess  you  won't  try  it  again  just  yet,  will  you?" 

"No,  indeed  I  won't,"  said  Arthur.  "Oh,  Uncle 
Carl,  how  plain  you  make  everything,  don't  you! 
Every  time  I  look  at  that  maple  tree,  I'll  just  remem- 
ber, and — and — mama !  I  ain't  ever,  ever  going  to 
smoke  again,  so  there!" 

"My  dear  little  son,"  said  Mrs.  Courtright,  snug- 
gling the  little  fellow  in  her  arms,  while  Carl,  lean- 
ing over  her  shoulder,  whispered  in  her  ear,  "Isn't 
my  way  better  than  a  scolding?" 

Shortly  after,  the  family  accompanied  Carl  and 


278  UNCLE  CARL 

Ralph  to  the  station;  and  Mrs.  Courtright,  who 
now  felt  a  strong  faith  in  and  liking  for  the  lad, 
urged  him  to  come  frequently  to  visit  them ;  and  they 
then  bade  farewell  to  the  man  who,  passing  through 
keener  trials,  shouldering  heavier  burdens  and  en- 
during more  of  the  crosses  than  falls  to  the  lot  of 
the  average  man,  yet  had  preserved  and  developed  a 
character  that  won  from  all  who  knew  him  a  deep 
respect  and  affection. 

In  the  city  Englewood  accompanied  Ralph  to  the 
offices  of  the  University  faculty,  and  having  charted 
the  course  for  the  lad's  ship  on  the  sea  of  learning, 
he  met  Courtright  at  the  dock  and  boarded  the 
steamer  for  Kaloma. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

The  bewilderment  of  Stanhope  when  Englewood 
appeared  in  the  Probate  Court  can  hardly  be 
described.  He  had  never  doubted  the  report  of 
Jenkins  in  regard  to  his  death,  and  his  unheralded 
appearance  was  startling  and  disconcerting.  Stan- 
hope had  had  every  hope  that  at  this  session  of  the 
court  he  would  be  declared  heir  to  the  Cramer  es- 
tate, and  be  able  to  at  once  clear  away  his  financial 
difficulties.  The  proofs  that  Englewood  presented 
in  regard  to  the  "mistake";  and  that  the  girl  upon 
whose  death  Stanhope's  hopes  of  getting  immediate 
control  of  the  property  rested  was  not  the  one  who 
had  died  in  Florida,  were  incontrovertible,  however; 
and  the  villain  was  obliged  to  acquiesce  in  the  court's 
decision  to  keep  the  property  intact  until  there  should 
be  no  question  as  to  its  proper  destination. 

With  financial  ruin  unavoidable,  for  he  had  de- 
pended upon  this  wealth  to  carry  him  through  other- 
wise fatal  speculations,  the  villain  left  the  court-room, 
muttering  many  a  curse  at  his  fellow-trustee. 

It  is  not  our  purpose  to  follow  in  detail  the  untiring 
search  that  Englewood  made  for  his  lost  ward.  Suf- 
fice it  to  say  that  for  over  two  years  he  made  every 
effort;  calling  to  his  assistance  the  ablest  detectives; 
advertising  extensively  and  offering  large  rewards  for 
information  as  to  her  whereabouts.  Every  possible 
means  were  made  use  of,  every  clue  followed,  and 
thousands  of  miles  wearily  traveled  in  his  efforts  to 
right  the  wrong.  All  was  in  vain,  however,  and  he 
returned  at  last  to  Kaloma,  practically  penniless. 
His  efforts  to  get  trace  of  Jenkins  had  proved  equally 


280  UNCLE  CARL 

futile.  That  rascal  had  disappeared  as  completely 
as  if  Satan  had  covered  him  with  his  dark  mantle. 
It  was  Carl's  belief,  however,  that  the  villain  would 
some  time  reappear,  and  that  it  was  most  probable 
that  he  would  seek  his  companion  in  crime, — Stan- 
hope,— whose  home  was  in  this  pretty  little  city. 

He  therefore  decided  to  remain  in  Kaloma,  and 
while  not  relaxing  his  vigilance,  recoup  in  some  meas- 
ure his  depleted  pocket-book.  For  he  had  assumed 
some  considerable  burdens  of  a  benevolent  nature, 
and  having  given  his  promises  it  was  his  will  to  keep 
them.  It  was  a  matter  of  honor  with  him  to  be  true 
to  his  word,  no  matter  at  what  cost  to  himself,  and 
the  fact  that  he  had  wrecked  his  finances  in  his  search 
for  his  ward  did  not,  he  felt,  release  him  from  any 
engagements  he  had  made.  He  therefore  settled 
down  with  his  three  W's — working,  watching,  wait- 
ing. A  mechanic  of  more  than  ordinary  ability  as 
well  as  an  able  writer  whose  articles  found  a  ready 
market  in  some  of  the  leading  magazines,  he  applied 
himself  with  diligence  and  painstaking  care  to  his 
work,  and  soon  found  himself  well  able  to  care  for 
all  of  his  obligations. 

Though  by  no  means  a  so-called  "society  man," 
for  he  found  it  difficult  to  practice  the  innumerable 
little  hypocrisies  that  are  apparently  necessary  for 
advancement  in  our  latter  day  "swim,"  Englewood 
was  not  without  friends  who,  recognizing  him  as  a 
man  of  worth,  urged  him  to  join  their  circle's.  A 
lover  of  the  children,  it  was  not  long  before  "Uncle 
Carl"  was  hailed  by  them  as  the  prince  of  chums, 
and  he  was  never  too  busy  to  listen  to  their  busy 
prattle;  to  mend  the  dolls  and  kites;  to  soothe  and 
advise  them  in  their  little  trials.  Indeed,  it  was 
through  the  little  folk  that  the  elders  first  became 


UNCLE  CARL  281 

aware  of  the  qualities  of  the  new  citizen ;  and  though 
many  called  him  foolish  for  his  stubborn  exactness 
in  the  small  as  well  as  in  the  major  affairs  of  life,  all 
respected  him  as  a  man  of  truth  and  honor.  While 
to  perhaps  the  majority  of  people  the  appearance  of 
truth  is  a  first  consideration,  to  Carl  truth  itself  was 
the  essential  thing,  the  all  in  all;  and  it  was  not 
long  before  it  was  a  common  remark,  "If  Mr.  Engle- 
wood  says  it  is  so,  it  is  so." 

As  the  months  passed  and  he  became  more  familiar 
with  the  people  and  the  customs  of  his  new  home, 
Carl  identified  himself  quietly  with  public  affairs, 
and  was  an  influential  member  of  an — at  first — ex- 
clusive organization,  having  for  its  primary  object 
the  infusing  of  a  spirit  of  integrity  and  aggressive 
purity  into  the  conduct  of  city  affairs.  While  neither 
seeking  nor  desiring  office,  the  members  of  the  club 
were  insistent  in  demanding  that  only  men  good  and 
true  and  able  should  control  the  government  of  their 
city.  As  their  objects  became  better  known  the  or- 
ganization grew  to  be  a  power  to  be  reckoned  with; 
and  the  sneers  of  the  professional  politicians  at  the 
"Immaculates,"  as  they  sarcastically  called  the  club 
members,  changed  first  to  alarm,  and  then  to  servility 
as  they  felt  their  power  slipping  from  them.  It  is  a 
truth  that,  no  matter  how  indifferent,  or  weak,  or 
culpable  the  people  of  our  world  seem  to  be  at  times, 
as  individuals  or  as  masses,  yet,  given  the  right  lead- 
ership, they  can  be  led  more  easily  upward  than 
downward.  Right  is  stronger  than  wrong,  truth  than 
falsehood,  light  than  darkness;  and  the  beauty  of 
holiness  a  more  potent  magnet  than  the  wiles  of  Sa- 
tan. Were  it  not  so,  society,  civilization,  government 
could  not  exist  for  a  day.  And  this  club,  believing 
in  the  predominant  tendency  toward  good,  sought, 


282  UNCLE  CARL 

not  so  much  to  force  the  good  in  or  the  bad  out,  as  it 
did  to  open  the  eyes  of  the  indifferent  to  conditions 
that  should  not  exist,  to  imbue  them  with  the  convic- 
tion of  their  individual  responsibilities  and  duties,  and 
to  arouse  in  all  so  far  as  possible  an  enthusiasm  for 
progressive  purity  in  both  public  and  private  life. 

In  this  organization  Englewood  became  one  of 
the  most  prominent  members;  but,  though  he  was 
often  urged  to  allow  his  name  to  be  used  as  a  candi- 
date for  office,  he  steadily  declined. 

Of  his  friends  in  Chicago  he  saw  but  little;  two 
or  three  hasty  visits  he  made  them,  and  occasionally 
Mr.  Courtright  came  to  Kaloma  to  see  him  on  busi- 
ness matters.  It  was  on  one  of  these  business  trips 
that  the  lawyer,  known  to  be  a  close  friend  of  Carl's, 
was  asked  by  the  chairman  of  the  club  to  urge  Engle- 
wood's  acceptance  of  office.  Courtright  agreed  to  do 
so,  "But,"  he  said,  "I  have  no  more  influence  with 
the  man  when  he  has  decided  upon  a  course,  than  a 
straw  would  have  in  turning  back  the  Falls  of  Ni- 
agara. When  he  reaches  a  decision  his  future  action 
is  settled,  unless  the  U.  S.  Army  backed  by  the  Navy 
thinks  it  worth  while  to  try  to  change  it;  and  it's 
doubtful  if  even  they  could  do  it.  However,  I'll  talk 
to  him."  And  he  did  later  broach  the  subject  to 
Englewood,  but  without  avail. 

"I  do  not  think,"  said  Carl,  "that  it  is  at  all  neces- 
sary, or  even  advisable  for  me  to  accept  the  office.  I 
believe  that  I  am  helping  to  accomplish  some  good 
as  I  am,  but  I  have  neither  the  training  nor  the  incli- 
nation that  would  enable  me  to  give  the  best  service 
in  such  a  position  as  is  suggested.  We  have  plenty 
of  more  able  men,  who  are  willing  to  serve,  and  who 
can  be  elected.  Why  then  should  I  be  chosen  against 
my  desire?  Besides,  my  friend,  there  is  that  in  my 


UNCLE  CARL  283 

past  life,  a  matter  of  record,  that,  if  used  by  our 
opponents,  would  not  only  probably  defeat  me,  but 
would  retard  in  great  measure  the  progress  of  our 
work." 

"I  know  to  what  you  allude,"  said  the  lawyer,  "but 
it  is  not  at  all  likely  that  that  event,  so  many  years 
old,  would  be  brought  up  now.  Besides,  I  know  that 
you  were  not  guilty  of  what  was  charged  against  you, 
though  you  never  told  me  the  real  facts  in  the  case, — 
and  even  if  it  should  come  up,  you  could  quickly 
dispel  its  evil  effects  by  telling  the  truth  about  it." 

"That  would  be  impossible,"  returned  Englewood. 
"Another's  reputation  is  involved,  and  only  through 
that  other  can  the  truth  be  made  known.  My  word 
has  passed  on  that.  But  really,  I  shrink  from  open- 
ing that  old  sore,  and  unless  I  can  see  that  it  is  neces- 
sary, I  shall  never  consent  to  the  use  of  my  name  for 
public  office." 

"I'd  give  half  I  own  for  the  privilege  of  lifting 
that  cloud  from  you,"  said  Courtright;  "but  if 
you've  decided  there's  no  use  of  my  braying  any 
longer,"  and  the  conversation  drifted  to  other  topics. 

During  the  years  Hattie  Braton  had  developed  an 
exceptional  talent  as  an  artist,  and  had  gone  East  for 
higher  instruction.  She  and  Englewood  had  kept  up 
a  regular  correspondence,  and  it  was  with  great  satis- 
faction that  he  watched  her  growth,  and  realized  that 
he  had  been  instrumental  in  saving  for  the  world  a 
jewel  of  rare  beauty  and  worth.  For  the  girl  was, 
as  Mrs.  Courtright  often  said,  "true  as  steel,  keen  as 
a  razor,  and  beautiful  as  a  rose."  She  had  applied 
herself  faithfully  to  her  studies,  and  it  was  not  long 
before  she  began  writing  to  Mr.  Englewood,  "I've 
sold  some  of  my  sketches  for  quite  a  sum,  so  this 
month  you  are  to  send  me  only  $ ."  And  long 


284  UNCLE  CARL 

before  her  term  was  ended  she  was  not  only  self-sup- 
porting, but  began  paying  back  in  small  installments 
the  amounts  advanced  for  her  education.  But,  to 
her  always,  Mr.  Englewood  was  "the  noblest  man  in 
the  world." 

Ralph  Deneen  proved  worthy  and  advanced 
rapidly  in  his  studies,  taking  position  as  one  of  the 
most  faithful  and  thorough  students  in  the  Univer- 
sity. He  soon  lost  the  picturesque  though  slangy 
speech  that  we  have  heard  him  use,  and  became  a 
well-spoken,  well-dressed,  and  well-liked  young  man. 
He,  too,  soon  found  ways  to  lessen  the  financial  bur- 
dens. 

"Now  look  at  that,"  said  Englewood  to  Court- 
right,  on  one  of  his  flying  visits.  "I  no  sooner  try  to 
do  something  for  a  worthy  fellow,  than  he  turns 
around  and  tells  me  he'll  do  it  himself.  Seems  as  if 
I  never  can  carry  out  my  plans." 

"Too  bad  about  you  !"  ejaculated  Courtright.  "If 
I  couldn't  do  better  than  you  do  I  think  that  I'd 
soak  my  head  in  a  barrel  of  burning  brimstone. 
Why  don't  you  brace  up  and  try  to  behave  yourself?" 

"Rather  sarcastic"  for  a  donkey  of  your  age,  aren't 
you?"  said  Carl.  These  two  cronies  did  like  to  talk 
"sassy"  to  each  other.  "But  honestly,  though,  I 
wouldn't  be  so  proud  of  my  youngsters  if  they  did  not 
try  to  help  out;  yet  I  can't  help  regretting  that  I 
become  less  necessary  to  them." 

"Less  necessary  financially,  perhaps,"  said  Court- 
right,  "but  more  and  more  necessary  every  day  per- 
sonally. It  beats  my  comprehension  what  they  can 
see  in  such  an  idiot  as  you  are  to  love  as  they  do." 

"Tut,  tut,  that'll  do,  that'll  do,"  said  Carl. 
"Have  a  cigar;  and  may  it  burn  your  wicked  tongue 
out." 


UNCLE  CARL  285 

There  was  one  of  the  children  at  Kaloma  that 
found  a  special  nook  in  the  heart  of  the  man  who  had 
a  strong  love  for  all  of  the  little  folk.  She  was  a 
bright  child  of  some  twelve  years,  named  Laura 
Brentford.  Not  especially  attractive  as  to  feature, 
but  with  a  face  that  lighted  up  so  expressively  under 
the  influence  of  her  emotions,  that  one  forgot  snub 
nose,  rather  sallow  complexion,  and  small  closely  set 
black  eyes.  Daughter  of  a  widowed  mother,  who 
was  employed  during  the  day,  the  child  would  often 
come  to  Englewood's  office  after  school  hours;  and 
it  was  his  delight  to  listen  to  her  prattle,  and  draw 
out  the  merry  laugh  and  bright  sunshine  of  expres- 
sion. 

One  day  the  youngster  came  in  with  a  sober  face, 
and  taking  her  position  on  Englewood's  knee  said: 
"Now,  Uncle  Carl,  I  want  to  tell  you  something. 
But  first  you  must  promise  that  you  won't  laugh  at  me 
and  that  you  won't  tell  mama." 

"Well,"  said  Englewood,  "I'll  certainly  promise 
to  not  laugh  at  you ;  but  you  must  let  me  use  my  own 
judgment  about  telling  mama;  I  can't  promise  to 
not  do  that  until  I  know  what  it  is." 

"But  I  don't  want  her  to  know  it  until  afterward," 
said  the  youngster.  "I  want  to  do  something  all 
myself." 

"I'll  not  tell  her  if  I  think  it  is  all  right,"  said 
Englewood ;  "but  I  can't  promise  until  I  know." 

"Well,  I  am  going  to  tell  you  anyhow,"  said 
Laura,  and  thereupon  she  told  of  a  child  in  her  class 
at  school  who  had  been  absent  for  some  weeks. 
Upon  inquiring  in  regard  to  her,  Laura  learned  that 
her  family  were  very  poor,  and  that,  too  proud  to  beg 
and  too  poor  to  purchase,  the  child  was  kept  from 


286  UNCLE  CARL 

school  because  of  the  parents'  inability  to  provide 
suitable  clothing  for  her. 

"Now,  Uncle  Carl,"  said  Laura,  "I  want  you  to 
help  me  to  earn  some  money  so  that  I  can  get  a  cloak 
for  that  little  girl,  so  she  can  come  to  school." 

"You  dear  little  sweetheart,"  said  Englewood,  "of 
course,  I'll  help  you.  Let  me  see;  um-m-m,  well, 
you  come  here  to-morrow  and  I'll  have  something  for 
you  to  do." 

"But,  Uncle  Carl,"  said  Laura,  "I  don't  want  you 
to  give  me  the  money.  I  want  to  earn  it  all  myself." 

"Never  fear,"  said  Carl,  "you'll  earn  the  money 
all  right." 

When  the  child  came  the  next  day,  Englewood 
gave  her  an  old  manuscript  that  she  was  to  copy  for 
him,  and  he  had  also  spoken  to  two  or  three  friends 
upon  whom  Laura  called,  when  she  had  finished  his 
work;  and  altogether  she  was  given  labor  for  which 
she  was  liberally  paid.  It  was  a  month  or  so  later 
that  Englewood  learned,  through  another  source, 
that  the  youngster's  enthusiasm  had  materially  less- 
ened, and  that  the  money  thus  given  was  spent  on 
herself  instead  of  on  the  poor  pupil,  though  Laura 
herself  told  him  nothing  about  that. 

Still,  Englewood  felt  a  sincere  affection  for  the 
child.  She  was  one  of  those  whose  sympathies  are 
easily  aroused;  whose  emotions,  though  fleeting, 
were  very  real  while  they  lasted;  and  in  the  incident 
related,  as  well  as  by  her  quick  appreciation  of  other 
needs,  she  appealed  to  our  friend  as  one  having  the 
qualities  that  might  be  developed  into  an  exception- 
ally beautiful  womanhood. 

The  girl  was  very  selfish  at  heart,  and  her  sympa- 
thies were  often  quickly  cooled  when  she  had  time  to 
consider  them  in  the  light  of  self-interest.  Still, 


UNCLE  CARL  287 

Englewood  delighted  in  fostering  her  better  side; 
believing  that  the  unselfish  traits  could  be  strength- 
ened until  they  should  become  paramount.  And  so 
through  some  years  he  kept  in  touch  with  her;  and 
many  were  the  little  "outings"  he  arranged  for  her 
and  her  playmates.  To  give  happy  childhood  hours 
to  those  who  would  otherwise  have  but  a  dull  past  to 
look  back  upon  in  their  mature  years  seemed  well 
worth  while;  and  if  at  the  same  time  he  could 
strengthen  the  young  plants  in  their  upward  growth 
he  would  be  doing  a  material  good  to  them  and  to  the 
world. 

Laura  was  fourteen  years  old  when  she  came  to 
Englewood  one  day  for  advice.  "I  have  to  decide 
on  a  course  of  study,"  she  said,  "and  I  don't  know 
what  to  do.  If  it  could  be  possible  for  me  to  go  to 
college,  I  would  know  just  what  to  do,  but  I  am 
afraid  I  can't  go.  If  I  can't  go,  I  should  take  quite 
different  studies.  Now  what  do  you  think  about  it?" 

Englewood  fully  realized  the  weakness  as  well  as 
the  strength  of  the  girl's  character.  She  was  quick 
to  comprehend,  strong  in  resolve,  but  weak  in  execu- 
tion; and  he  had  never  known  her  to  carry  out  to 
full  fruition  any  high  purpose  requiring  long-con- 
tinued patience  and  effort;  though  she  often  con- 
ceived and  started  vigorously  to  plan  and  execute  com- 
mendable projects.  Soon  tiring,  or  losing  enthusi- 
asm, however,  the  work  would  be  dropped  unfinished. 
But  he  resolved  to  do  what  he  could  for  her,  with 
strong  hopes  that  she  would  prove  worthy  in  the  end. 
He  therefore  said : 

"Select  your  studies,  Laura,  just  as  if  you  were  sure 
of  going  to  college.  And  if  your  mother  cannot 
send  you  there  herself,  and  she  approves,  I  will  see 


288  UNCLE  CARL 

that  you  have  all  the  help  necessary  above  what  she 
can  afford." 

"Oh,  Uncle  Carl,  how  good  you  are !"  said  Laura, 
as  she  snuggled  up  to  him,  and  Englewood  thought, 
"Poor  youngster,  I  will  try  my  hardest  for  you,  but  I 
am  much  afraid  that  it  will  only  prove  Erickson's 
proverb,  'You  can't  make  an  oak  tree  out  of  a  goose- 
berry bush.'  It's  worth  trying  for,  though,  and  you 
shall  have  all  of  the  advantages  that  I  can  give  to 
you." 

In  near  proximity  to  Kaloma  there  were  several 
small  but  beautiful  lakes.  Indeed,  the  city  is  a  quite 
noted  summer  resort,  and  there  are  many  ideal  spots, 
both  natural  and  artificial,  where  he  who  loves  the 
"Great  Mother"  may  rest  and  worship  to  his 
heart's  content.  It  was  one  of  Englewood's  delights 
when  evening  approached  to  row  out  upon  one  of 
these  crystal  beauty  spots.  The  clear,  fragrant  air, 
the  stillness  broken  by  the  sounds  of  distant  voices  in 
song  or  laughter,  as  the  campers  on  the  shore  en- 
joyed their  outing  pleasures;  the  changing  colors  of 
the  closing  day  reflected  by  the  placid  waters,  and 
later  the  radiance  of  the  gentle  moon ;  while  from  a 
distant  hostelry  came  the  strains  of  music,  softened 
to  a  weird  sweetness,  were  all  conducive  to  a  feeling 
of  peace  and  a  somewhat  melancholy  content.  It 
was,  to  use  his  own  words  in  a  letter  that  he  wrote  to 
a  friend,  "At  such  a  time  that  the  profoundest 
thoughts  of  which  I  am  capable — not  very  deep  at 
best — become  living  realities  to  me.  Principles, 
emotions,  resolutions  take  form,  and  all  evil  disturb- 
ances are  for  the  time  forgotten.  There  I  find  my 
'church.'  There  such  good  as  is  in  me  lives;  and 
though  the  turmoil  of  business  and  the  annoyances  of 
city  life  swiftly  follow,  yet  the  machine-like  round  of 


UNCLE  CARL  289 

duties  runs  more  smoothly,  and  one's  patience  is 
strengthened,  and  one's  work  is  better  done,  because 
of  this  quiet  communion  with  'Mother  Nature.'  I 
am  not  much  of  a  churchman ;  I  rarely  enter  a  'house 
of  worship' ;  but  out  under  the  vast  dome  I  'list  to 
Nature's  teaching.'  There  I  hear  the  voice  of  the 
Great  Eternal.  There  I  realize  my  own  littleness, 
and  at  the  same  time  have  a  sense  of  my  own  im- 
portance as  the  Voice  tells  that  it  has  been  permitted 
me  to  become  a  part  of  the  infinite  whole,  and  that, 
though  I  am  but  an  atom  in  comparison  with  the 
great  whole ;  yet  the  whole  would  not  be  complete  if 
this  atom  were  not,  and  the  grand  harmony — the 
'music  of  the  spheres' — would  lose  something  of  its 
beauty  if  I  failed  to  vibrate  in  unison." 

So  indeed,  we  are  all  small  and  yet  great.  Each 
fills  a  definite  space,  and  plays  an  important  part 
which  none  other  can  do ;  and  though  one's  own  indi- 
viduality may  seem  to  be  of  small  consequence  midst 
the  millions  of  lives  by  which  it  is  surrounded,  yet  it 
is  emphatically  true  that  each  one  has  the  privilege  of 
adding  force  and  strength  to  the  great  principles  of 
truth  and  beauty  and  holiness. 

Sometimes  he  would  take  Laura  with  him  on  these 
little  outings,  and  though  it  was  at  all  times  easy  to 
arouse  her  emotions,  to  make  her  feel  strongly  the 
beauties  of  higher  thought;  yet  out  in  the  gloaming, 
gliding  here  and  there  over  a  glassy  surface  reflecting 
the  marvelous  blazonry  of  the  heavens,  or  swaying 
gently  with  the  wavelets  as  a  passing  boat  would 
multiply  the  reflected  star-spangles,  or  again  moving 
inshore  and  listening  to  the  mysterious  sounds  and 
whisperings  of  the  night,  she  seemed  to  drink  in  more 
intensely,  and  to  respond  more  intelligently  to  the 
19 


290  UNCLE  CARL 

beautiful  thoughts  and  high  aspirations  which  he 
sought  to  implant  in  her  heart.  Grave  or  gay,  in 
fun  and  frolic  or  in  the  serious  moods,  it  was  always 
his  effort  to  draw  her  toward  truth.  To  him  sin- 
cerity was  the  watchword,  and  he  defined  it  as  "a  con- 
stant endeavor  to  establish  and  maintain  a  perfect 
harmony  between  one's  life  and  one's  highest  possible 
conception  of  truth."  Laura  always  agreed  with 
him ;  honestly  agreed  with  him  on  these  topics.  Yet 
her  nature  was  such  that  in  the  active  affairs  of  life, 
self-interest  and  expediency  ruled.  But  she  was 
young,  and  her  real  life  all  before  her,  and  it  was 
Englewood's  endeavor  to  so  imbue  her  with  a  sense 
of  the  importance  of  the  higher  life  that  she  might 
grow  from  the  stature  of  the  "gooseberry  bush"  to 
that  of  the  "oak."  He  often  referred  then  and  in 
later  years  to  the  incident  of  the  cloak  she  had  "pur- 
chased" for  the  poor  school-girl.  Laura  did  not 
know  that  he  knew  of  the  use  she  had  made  of  the 
money,  and  she  always  received  his  reference  to  that 
event  with  a  self-satisfied  little  smile  that  was  a  source 
of  real  sorrow  to  him.  And  he  made  that  transac- 
tion a  "test-stone,"  as  it  were.  Sincerity  being  his 
standard  he  would  continue  to  help  her  toward  it; 
and  when  the  girl  would  of  her  own  accord  say  to 
him, — when  he  made  reference  to  the  cloak, — "Uncle 
Carl,  I  never  bought  it,  and  you  have  been  deceived 
in  me  all  of  this  time;  but  now  I  am  true  enough  to 
acknowledge  it,"  he  would  open  wide  his  heart  to  her 
in  thanksgiving;  and  say,  "Truth  has  conquered,  and 
she  will  be  an  oak  tree  after  all."  It  is  the  little 
things  of  life  that  are  the  true  index  of  character. 
And  though  it  would  be  a  hard  thing  for  her  to  do, 
and  harder  the  longer  she  postponed  it,  yet  until  she 
did  confess,  until  the  little  smile  of  satisfaction  should 


UNCLE  CARL  291 

give  place  to  a  heartfelt  regret,  he  would  know  that 
she  was  not  faithful  to  the  principle  of  truth. 

We  are  thus  prolix  in  our  relation  of  Englewood's 
work  with  Laura,  because  we  wish  to  show  his 
methods  and  his  earnestness.  He  had  many  little 
proteges,  both  boys  and  girls;  and  with  them  all  he 
used  the  one  plan  of  placing  before  them  the  mental 
food,  explaining  its  uses  and  striving  to  interest  and 
stimulate  them  to  personal  research,  and  then  giving 
the  plant  freedom  to  choose,  while  he  would  know 
the  result  by  the  after  growth.  We  have  at  hand  the 
exact  data  in  regard  to  his  work  with  Laura  Brent- 
ford, and  give  it  as  an  illustration  of  this  earnest 
man's  character  and  methods.  In  another  chapter 
we  shall  print  a  few  of  his  letters  to  her  while  in 
college,  that  will  more  fully  show,  not  only  his 
methods,  but  also  something  of  the  inner  character 
of  the  man  himself. 

The  matter  of  the  girl's  college  work  was  not  again 
referred  to,  though  Englewood  continued  his  friendly 
and  helpful  association,  and  held  her  respect  and 
affectionate  confidence  until  she  graduated  from  the 
high  school.  It  was  some  weeks  after  that  event, 
and  during  the  summer  vacation,  that  Mrs.  Brentford 
informed  Carl  that  she  had  resigned  her  position  and 

was  going  to  V to  secure  a  house  for  herself  and 

daughter.  Though  the  plan  did  not  seem  to  him  to  be 
wise,  he  gave  the  mother  credit  for  knowing  what 
was  best;  and  it  was  with  some  surprise  that  he 
learned  later  through  a  letter  from  her,  that  instead 
of  his  assisting  her  in  giving  the  daughter  an  educa- 
tion, she  expected  him  to  bear  the  whole  burden. 
"I  can  take  care  of  myself  all  right,"  she  wrote, 
"if  you  will  hold  Laura  up."  He  had  passed 
his  word  to  the  girl,  however,  and  ungrumblingly 


292  UNCLE  CARL 

assumed  a  burden  that,  considering  his  numerous 
other  expenses,  was  rather  more  than  he  could  carry 
without  running  behind  in  his  finances.  He  later 
found  that  he  not  only  had  to  meet  the  girl's  expenses, 
but  that  the  mother,  as  well,  felt  free  to  solicit  help 
for  herself. 

We  find  it  not  easy  to  understand  the  man's  course 
of  reasoning,  when,  himself  in  need,  and  with  a 
limited  income,  he  consented  to  the  assumption  of 
such  a  burden.  He,  however,  was  just  the  kind  of 
man  who  would  rather  suffer  greatly  himself  than  to 
break  a  promise.  And  though  his  promise  was  given 
without  any  thought  that  his  resources  would  be  so 
heavily  drawn  upon,  he  yet  yielded  without  a  murmur 
rather  than  be  charged  with  unfaithfulness.  He  had 
promised  Laura  an  education,  and  she  should  have 
it  at  any  cost,  for  she  surely  was  not  responsible  for 
the  mother's  conduct.  And  he  believed  that  the  girl 
might  yet  prove  worthy  of  his  self-sacrifice. 

In  the  following  chapter  we  publish  a  few  letters 
selected  from  many  in  our  possession  that  were  writ- 
ten to  the  girl  during  her  college  days.  Save  for  the 
elimination  of  an  occasional  non-essential  sentence, 
we  give  these  letters  just  as  they  were  written  by 
Englewood,  without  other  preparation  than  a  benevo- 
lent affection  for  a  little  girl,  his  junior  by  nearly  a 
quarter  of  a  century.  If  the  reader  is  weary  of  the 
subject  the  chapter  may  be  passed  over  without  break- 
ing the  continuity  of  our  history.  We  give  them 
only  because  they  are  direct  illustrations  of  Engle- 
wood's  character  and  his  manner  of  influencing  the 
young.  It  was  his  rule  to  never  write  a  social  or 
friendly  letter  without  having  in  it  some  thought  that 
would  be  worth  considering.  He  disliked  gossipy 
correspondence,  and  in  each  epistle  his  inner  self,  his 


UNCLE  CARL  293 

heart,  his  intellect  would  find  place.  Another  reason 
that  we  publish  a  few  of  these  letters  now,  with  the 
promise  that  if  our  readers  find  them  as  good  as  we 
have  the  whole  series  will  be  given  them,  is  that 
Laura  often  spoke  of  them  as  "real  inspirations," 
helpful  and  uplifting.  And  though  she  proved 
Erickson's  proverb,  and  by  her  life  denied  Engle- 
wood's  hopes,  yet  they  may  prove  to  others  not  only 
momentarily  inspiring,  as  they  did  to  the  girl,  but 
lastingly  helpful  as  well. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 

Kaloma,  M ,  December  3ist. 

11.40  P.  M. 
To  Miss  Laura  Brentford, 

V M 

)      IT  J.  • 

Greeting. 
Dear  Little  Girl: 

"  'Tis    midnight's    holy    hour,    and    silence    now 
Is  brooding  like  a  gentle  spirit,  o'er 
The  still  and  pulseless  world," 

and  old  "Uncle  Carl"  sits,  as  is  his  wont  at  this  season 
of  the  year,  all  alone  with  his  thoughts,  reviewing  the 
journey  of  the  year  just  closing,  and  trying  to  ascer- 
tain whether  or  no  the  balance  is  on  the  right  side  of 
the  ledger.  There  is  no  such  thing,  of  course,  as  a 
debit  and  credit  account  with  life;  the  ultimate  effects 
of  each  act,  of  each  word,  are  so  far-reaching  and  so 
interdependent  upon  the  acts  and  words  of  others 
that  an  exact  accounting  can  never  be  rendered. 
Neither  am  I  one  who  believes  in  waiting  for  the  new 
year,  or  a  birthday  anniversary,  or  any  other  "red 
letter"  day  for  the  forming  of  new  resolutions  and 
the  turning  of  "new  leaves";  for  the  resolving  and 
the  turning  should  occur  on  the  instant  that  one  dis- 
covers an  error.  Yet  it  is  only  when  viewing  life's 
battlefield  from  a  distance  that  we  can  get  a  clear 
picture  of  the  whole.  The  ascent  or  descent  of  the 
pathway  may  be  so  slight  that  we  do  not  notice  it 
when  we  are  journeying  on,  yet,  looking  back  from 
the  distance,  we  can  clearly  note  its  character.  Hold- 
ing in  mind  the  clear  conception  of  our  personality  at 


UNCLE  CARL  295 

one  season,  some  distance  removed,  we  can  intelli- 
gently compare  it  with  our  present  personality.  ^  The 
deeds  done  during  a  term  of  months  can  be  viewed 
and  results  clearly  apprehended  without  the  bias  of 
emotions  felt  at  the  time  of  their  occurrence ;  and  we 
can  thus,  if  we  study  sincerely,  profit  by  the  past  ex- 
perience; feel  joy  or  regret  according  as  we  find  a 
preponderance  of  flowers  or  of  weeds,  and  advance 
upon  our  further  journey  with  renewed  determination 
to  carve  our  future  on  the  lines  we  have  selected. 

Sometimes,  as  I  have  sat  with  my  thoughts  at  this 
hour,  I  have  felt  (The  hour  has  just  struck  announ- 
cing the  death  of  the  old,  the  birth  of  the  new  year, 
and  Uncle  Carl  wishes  his  little  girl  a  Happy  New 
Year  with  many,  many,  blessings.)  that  my  life  had 
hardly  been  worth  the  living.  Again  I  have  felt  that 
much  had  been  done — the  progress  made  very  satis- 
factory. To-night  I  have  rather  a  feeling  of  quiet 
satisfaction,  but  I  am  sad  rather  than  elated.  It 
seems  to  me  that  I  have  done  some  little  for  the 
world.  Some  evils  have  been  lessened,  some  lives 
made  happier,  some  opportunities  opened  for  worthy 
workers.  For  myself  I  have  done  but  little,  though 
I  can  feel  myself  somewhat  stronger  mentally,  and  I 
can  see  that  the  weaknesses  in  regard  to  the  duties 
of  life,  to  which  I  am  prone,  have  not  been  so  numer- 
ous as  some  years  have  shown.  On  the  whole,  while 
I  have  not  done  anywhere  near  as  much  as  I  could 
and  should  have  done,  yet  strength  has  been  mine  to 
do  more  that  I  feared  I  should  be  able  to  accomplish 
when  the  year  opened.  (See  what  an  egotist  your 
Uncle  is;  I  wonder  if  you  understand  him.)  But, 
perhaps  the  chief  source  of  my  satisfaction  to-night 
lies  with  reference  to  yourself.  I  am  vastly  proud  of 
my  little  girl.  And  as  I  have  seen  you,  and  noted 


296  UNCLE  CARL 

the  unfolding  of  your  higher  self,  seen  the  strength- 
ening of  what  I  believe  to  be  an  innately  pure  char- 
acter, and  watched  the  play  of  those  indefinable  little 
graces  that  come  with  growing  womanhood,  I  am 
proud  and  happy  that,  in  some  small  measure,  it  has 
been  my  privilege  to  help  you  a  little  way  on  the 
journey.  There  is  a  certain  sadness  mingled  with 
my  satisfaction.  A  sadness  for  the  knowledge  that 
all  of  this  growth  of  yours  may  soon  pass  away  from 
me.  That  perhaps  only  a  little  while  longer  will  it 
be  my  privilege  to  help  you  onward.  Yet,  I  hope 
that  not  for  several  years;  not  until  your  character 
has  reached  its  fully  developed  strength,  will  you  be 
pledged  to  another ;  for  then  another  must  take  your 
Uncle's  place  and  privileges,  and  his  joy  will  be  one 
of  memory  only.  Hence  the  sadness ;  but  it  is  of  the 
future.  To-night  I  am  glad  and  grateful  with  a 
heart  full  of  love  for  Laura. 

I  will  not  mail  this  to-morrow  (or  rather  to-day) 
as  I  shall  want  to  enclose  a  check  Saturday,  and  will 
hold  it  open  until  then.  So  will  say  good-night  and 

go  to  bed  to  dream  of ? 

Friday  evening. 

Here  we  are  again.  Your  letter  came  this  morn- 
ing. I  am  very  sorry  to  learn  of  the  mother's  indis- 
position, and  hope  that  it  will  soon  pass.  Extend  to 
her  my  greeting  for  the  New  Year  and  tell  her  I  wish 
for  her  that  prosperity  and  happiness  may  follow  her 
through  the  coming  twelve  months. 

I  hope  and  believe  that  you  can  feel  a  clean  con- 
tent as  you  look  over  the  last  year.  It  seems  to  me 
that  it  cannot  be  otherwise.  Still,  if  you  cannot,  you 
must  make  up  for  it  this  year;  for  you,  in  such  case, 
have  deceived  Uncle  Carl.  I  don't  mean  in  your 
studies,  but  in  character.  From  what  I  have  seen  I 


UNCLE  CARL  297 

believe  in  you ;  and  if  I  have  seen  signs  that  are  false 
lights  it  rests  with  you  to  raise  the  proper  signals. 
Do  you  know,  Laura,  what  my  religion  is?  I  doubt 
it,  but  will  tell  you.  It  is  ' 'Sincerity."  That  word 
is  the  whole  foundation  and  fabric  of  my  creed.  All 
of  the  furniture  of  the  house  must  be  constructed  with 
honesty  of  purpose.  The  air  must  breathe  fidelity. 
Sincerity,  inside  and  out,  with  self  and  with  others  in 
thought,  word  and  deed.  That  is  my  religion;  and 
if  all  people  were  sincere  in  everything,  evil  could  not 
abound,  because  misunderstandings  could  not  exist, 
and  the  evil  would  be  seen  and  killed.  I  do  not  mean 
to  pose,  however.  That  is  my  creed.  We  all  have 
creeds;  but  while  we  all  strive,  or  should  strive,  to 
live  more  and  more  in  accordance  with  our  ideals,  yet 
we  all  fall  short.  We  should  not  strive  the  less 
because  we  cannot  reach  the  ideal,  but  endeavor  to 
more  and  more  nearly  approximate  our  highest  con- 
ceptions each  year.  So  your  old  Uncle  does  not 
claim  perfection  by  any  means,  but  only  tells  you  what 
is,  to  my  mind,  the  highest  ideal;  i.  e.,  Sincerity,  or 
Truth.  Perhaps  I  may  some  time  illustrate  what  I 
mean,  by  giving  you  a  sacred  page  in  my  life's  his- 
tory; but  a  very  sad  one.  Do  you  want  to  hear  it? 
Am  off  now.  Many,  many  flowers  for  my  dear 
little  girl. 

UNCLE  CARL. 

P.    S. — Here   is   something   else   I   want  to   say. 

While  in  H I  told  you  I  wanted  to  hear  from 

you  each  week  whether  I  wrote  or  not.  Of  course, 
you,  like  myself,  have  sometimes  too  much  work; 
are  tired;  "out  of  sorts,"  or  not  in  the  mood  for 
writing;  and  you  then  have  the  same  right  that  I 
have  not  to  write.  The  thought  that  I  meant  to  con- 


298  UNCLE  CARL 

vey  was,  in  friendship  there  is  no  accounting.  I  want 
you  to  write  to  me  only  because  you  like  to  talk  to 
me;  and  I  want  you  to  write  every  time  you  want  to 
talk  to  me.  I  do  the  same.  An  exact  exchange 
should  never  be  considered,  for  friendship  is  not, 
should  not  be,  dependent  upon  a  debit  and  a  credit 
account.  Do  I  make  it  clear  to  you? 

UNCLE  CARL. 

(The  following  letter  accompanied  a  manuscript 
written  by  Carl  Englewood,  which  we  have  made  use 
of  in  forming  the  first  chapter  of  this  volume ;  which 
see.) 

Kaloma,  M ,  January  10. 

To  Miss  Laura  Brentford, 

V ,  M . 

Greeting. 

Dear  little  Girl : 

You  may  as  well  seat  yourself  in  the  most  comfort- 
able manner  possible,  for  you  have  a  long  task  before 
you;  a  mass  of  writing  to  wade  through;  before 
starting  which  I  wish  to  give  a  few  words  by  way  of 
explanation. 

Some  years  ago  I  wanted  to  illustrate  a  certain 
point  to  a  pupil  of  mine,  and  the  enclosed  paper  was 
written  for  that  purpose.  But  having  written  it,  I 
did  not  use  it;  for  it  seemed  to  me  to  be  too  sacred  a 
thing;  too  sad,  and  too  real — for  me  to  share  it  with 
any  one.  It  is  now  given  to  you,  and  I  need  not  say 
that  I  trust  you  to  keep  it  as  a  something  not  lightly 
given,  nor  lightly  to  be  used.  With  the  exception  of 
"Irene"  and  "Carl"  the  names  are  fictitious  for 
obvious  reasons.  You  will  find  much  that  the  non- 
understanding  or  unsympathetic  would  call  "slush"; 


UNCLE  CARL  299 

but  I  endeavored  to  recall  every  word,  every  thought, 
of  that  very  hard  day,  and  I  think  that  you  can 
understand  and  will  not  think  of  it  lightly.  Under- 
stand, too,  that  I  do  not  intend  it  to  be  in  any  sense 
a  discussion  of  "religious  ethics"  so  far  as  you  are 
concerned.  The  words  spoken  were  uttered  many 
years  ago;  the  scenes  are  given  you  as  an  illustra- 
tion of  what  your  old  "Uncle"  means  by  "sin- 
cerity," and  because  you  wished  it.  If  "Carl's" 
character  seems,  in  the  light  of  the  fact  that  I  have 
written  of  myself,  somewhat  boastful,  try  to  be  just 
to  me.  I  do  not  mean  to  set  myself  up  as  a  pattern. 
But  the  sincere  man  knows  himself.  Sincerity  being 
my  ideal,  I  would  be  lacking  in  self-respect  did  I  not 
strive  to  live  in  accordance  with  it.  With  this  striv- 
ing I  must  be  conscious  of  my  degree  of  success  or 
failure.  I  think  that  I  have  not  exaggerated  my 
strength  in  this  respect.  That  Irene  and  her  mother 
had,  perhaps,  a  too  high  view  of  my  character  is 
probable;  yet  that  the  day's  record  might  be  faith- 
fully rendered  it  was  necessary  to  give  their  exact 
words.  How  highly  esteemed  I  was  may  be  inferred 
from  the  fact  that  I  was  outside  the  pale  of  church 
doctrine,  while  the  father  was  pastor  of  an  old-school 
Eastern  Presbyterian  church;  and  yet  I  was  received 
as  a  prospective  son-in-law. 

This  whole  "sermon,"  Laura,  is  to  show  you  what 
deep  stress  I  lay  upon  my  belief  in  the  "first  duty  of 
man"  (i.  e.,  Sincerity).  While  not  all  truth  should 
be  spoken  at  all  times,  because  it  might  not  be  under- 
stood,— and  to  misunderstand  truth  is  as  bad  as  to 
believe  a  falsehood, — yet  I  hold  that  a  lie,  thought, 
spoken,  or  acted,  is  never  justifiable.  I  cannot  con- 
ceive a  position  in  which  I  can  be  placed  where  the 
truth  could  be  harder  to  speak  than  in  my  illustra- 


300  UNCLE  CARL 

tion,  nor  where  it  could  come  nearer  justification  to 
tell  or  act  the  white  lie.  Yet,  because  my  little  girl 
understood,  I  believe  that  she  died  in  greater  peace, 
and  certainly  with  more  respect  for  me  than  the 
acquiescence  in  her  wish  could  have  produced.  If  any 
case  could  occur  where  the  emotions  of  the  hour 
could  justly  govern,  then  there  was  the  case.  But 
that  brings  up  another  point,  i.  e. — 

One's  judgments  should  be  made  during  moments 
of  calm  whenever  possible.  With  clear-headed, 
conscientious  study  and  reason  should  vital  questions 
be  considered  and  judgments  reached;  and  then  they 
should  be  held  to  even  when,  in  moments  of  emotion, 
there  seems  to  be  reason  for  a  change  of  opinion. 
It  is  just  for  such  reasons  that  I  am  emphatically  op- 
posed to  so-called  "revivals"  in  church  and  other 
work.  Decisions  are  then  made  and  promises  given, 
under  stress  of  excitement,  which  would  not  be  given 
in  cooler  moments. 

Enthusiasm  is  all  right,  is  necessary  for  progress; 
but  calm,  cool  reason  and  judgment  should  precede 
it.  I  do  not  know  that  I  make  you  understand  fully 
my  position  in  this  matter,  but  I  have  done  the  best 
I  can.  I  do  not  know  that  you  agree  with  me  either, 
but  that  need  not  matter.  I  do  not  care  particularly 
whether  other  people  think  as  I  do,  or  reach  the 
same  conclusions  in  all  cases.  What  I  do  care  about 
is  absolute  honesty.  So  long  as  a  person  is  thor- 
oughly honest,  "sincere,"  and  has  the  courage  of  con- 
viction, I  respect  and  highly  esteem  him  or  her. 
Deception  of  self  or  of  others  I  detest. 

Now,  Laura,  it  is  no  more  than  fair  that  you 
should  do  something  for  me — and  for  yourself.  You 
know  that  in  philosophy,  after  due  study  and  thought, 


UNCLE  CARL  301 

the  scholar  embodies  his  conclusions  in  one  terse, 
concise  statement.  Spencer  said,  "Truth  is  the  agree- 
ment between  the  objective  order  of  phenomena  and 
the  subjective  order  of  thought."  Another  said, 
"Honor  is  the  conduct  of  life  in  perfect  accord  with 
the  dictates  of  a  pure  conscience" ;  and  again,  "No- 
bility of  soul  is  that  quality  of  man's  nature,  whereby 
he  more  or  less  clearly  conceives  and  steadfastly  seeks 
to  accomplish  his  full  duty."  These  are  just  samples. 
I  want  you  to  embody,  in  like  brief  manner,  your  own 
conception  of  our  text,  "Sincerity."  It  need  not 
necessarily  be  my  belief;  but  it  should  be  your  own. 
I  have  epitomized  my  own  conception,  years  ago; 
and  I  would  be  interested  in  the  comparison.  Do 
not  say,  "I  can't,  Uncle  Carl,"  for  I  know  that  you 
can. 

My  "experience"  I  would  prefer  to  have  de- 
stroyed, but  do  with  it  as  you  will.  Not  every  one 
could  begin  to  understand,  and  I  therefore  do  not 
want  it  to  fall  into  the  hands  of  any  one  who  would 
•make  light  of  such  a  page  of  my  life's  history.  No 
one  but  you  has  ever  been  given  this  light. 

"Sermon"  is  over.  But  I  have  no  news  to  write. 
You  will  find  in  a  small  envelope  the  picture  you  de- 
sired. Never  use  paste  or  glue  when  putting  a 
picture  in  a  watch.  Cut  the  picture  the  size  of  the 
full  diameter  of  the  case,  and  press  it  in  so  that  the 
edge  of  the  picture  springs  under  the  inner  edge  of 
the  rim  of  the  lid.  Paste  ruins  the  picture  when  the 
case  is  cleaned,  and  does  not  hold  it  as  securely  as  the 
above  method. 

Affectionately  yours, 

UNCLE  CARL. 


302  UNCLE  CARL 

Kaloma,  M .,  February  2ist. 

To  Miss  Laura  Brentford, 
V M 

»      .  *  i  • 

Greeting. 

Dear  little  Girl:  "Night  drew  her  sable  mantle 
down  and  pinned  it  with  a  star."  The  day  for  me 
has  been  a  very  quiet  one.  I  have  accomplished 
nothing  save  a  goodly  rest;  and  as  there  is  a  dearth 
of  news  and  nothing  special  for  you  to  be  scolded  for, 
I  am  afraid  that  you  will  have  to  wade  through  dry- 
ness  as  usual.  A  drought  is  a  good  thing  at  the 
proper  time,  in  some  particulars;  but  as  a  "steady 
diet"  it  becomes  monotonous.  I  have  been  sitting  at 
the  window  looking  up  at  the  myriad  stars  with 
which  night's  "sable  mantle"  is  secured,  and  Uncle 
Carl's  thoughts  have  been  wool-gathering.  The 
growing  darkness  first  suggested  that  old  "Excel- 
sior"— 

"The  shades  of  night  were  falling  fast, 

When  through  an  Alpine  village,  passed 
A  youth ;    who  bore  'mid  snow  and  ice, 
A  banner  with  this  strange  device, 
Excelsior," 

and  with  the  thoughts  springing  from  that  suggestion 
your  letter  will  be  filled.  (Better  light  the  fire  with 
it  first;  'twill  save  time.) 

Every  earnest  man  and  woman  starts  out  in  life 
with  the  ambition  to  excel,  in  some  particular  line  or 
lines,  the  average  standing  of  mankind.  Some, 
having  special  talents,  excel  in  art;  others,  in  litera- 
ture; others,  in  music;  others,  in  science.  Many 
seek  for  material  riches  and  power.  Some  desire  to 
reach  the  highest  position  in  government;  and  it  is 
early  instilled  into  our  minds  that  we  may  fill  the 


UNCLE  CARL  303 

Presidential  chair.  In  fact,  in  our  younger,  opti- 
mistic years,  we  start  out  in  life  with  the  resolution 
expressed  by  "Pat"  in  his  version  of  our  text, — 

"  'Twas   growing  dark   so  tirrabul   f  asht 
Whin  through  the  town,   up   the   mountain   there  pashed 
A  broth  of  a  bye  to  his  neck  in  the  schnow; 
And  as  he  walked  his  shillelah  he  swung  to  and  fro 
Saying,  'it's  up  till  the  very  tip  top  I  will  go, 
Be  jabbers!' " 

And  this  ambition  is  ever  a  commendable  one.  Its 
fostering,  however,  is  often  productive  of  evil;  as 
when  one  becomes  so  imbued  with  the  selfish  desire 
for  wealth,  or  power,  or  influence,  that  he  makes  use 
of  means  to  that  end  which  wrong  a  fellow-man. 
Every  man  should  make  the  most  of  his  opportunities 
and  talents  to  rise  in  the  world,  provided  his  pur- 
pose is  to  use  his  position  and  power  to  advance  the 
general  welfare.  No  man  has  the  right  to  make 
stepping-stones  of  his  fellows  when  by  so  doing  he 
crushes  his  fellow  into  the  mire.  There  has  been, 
there  can  be,  no  better  precept  to  carry  in  mind  as 
we  progress  than  the  so-called  "Golden  Rule."  That 
is  the  first,  the  intermediate  and  the  last  stepping- 
stone  upon  which  one  may  pass  to  the  ideal  of  per- 
fect manhood  and  womanhood.  Other  stepping- 
stones  there  are  in  the  world  by  which  one  may  suc- 
ceed in  some  measure;  but  without  the  "Golden 
Rule"  the  heights  of  a  pure,  altruistic  hedonism;  the 
perfect  manhood;  the  "Excelsior"  of  private  and 
public  life  cannot  be  attained. 

As  we  take  the  various  steps  in  our  progress 
through  life,  we  find  the  way  bounded  by  other  pre- 
cepts— living  rocks  of  principle;  but  all  mere  de- 
tails of  the  great  central  rock  of  the  "Rule."  Just 
fragments ;  but  each  fragment  itself  a  stepping-stone. 


304  UNCLE  CARL 

Rocks  of  Friendship;  of  Truth;  of  Patience  and 
Perseverance,  of  Love;  of  Temperance;  of  Benevo- 
lence; the  Rule  contains  them  all.  And  as  we  see 
them,  as  precepts  they  mean  much;  but  exemplified 
in  the  lives  of  our  fellows  and  of  ourselves,  they  be- 
come living  principles  which  must  in  their  influence 
make  us  all  more  worthy.  We  all  admire  the  man 
who  accomplishes  great  things.  Admire  his  strength, 
his  ability,  his  perseverance;  though  his  motives,  his 
inner  self  may  be  unworthy.  No  doubt  we  would  ad- 
mire the  rose  for  its  beauty  and  symmetry,  even  with- 
out its  fragrance.  But  the  fragrance  adds  so  much 
to  the  flower  that,  if  we  must  choose  between  the 
beauty  to  the  sight  and  the  fragrance,  I  think  that 
we  would  all  choose  the  latter.  And  so  in  accom- 
plishment; it  is  the  "Golden  Rule"  that  gives  all  of 
the  fragrance  to  the  life  of  effort.  The  knowledge 
of  its  constant  operation  is  necessary  to  all  real  happi- 
ness; without  it  no  man  or  woman  can  ever  truly  cry 
at  last,  "Excelsior." 

As  the  darky  would  say,  "I  have  conflaberated  my 
cerebellum";  or  in  the  words  of  the  divine  poet,  "I 
have  busted  my  thinker,"  and  both  you  and  I  are 
glad  of  it. 

I  have  a  wee  flower  to  throw  to  my  little  girl  to- 
night. Last  week  Mrs.  X.  W.  came  into  my  office 
and  said,  in  effect,  "Mr.  Englewood,  you  used  to  be 
so  interested  in  Laura  Brentford  that  I  know  you 

will  be  glad  to  know  about  her.  I  was  at  V last 

week  and  with  the  girls  at  the  same  house  with  Laura. 
She  has  grown  to  be  a  very  sweet  little  lady,  and  is 

one  of  the  most  popular  girls  in  V .  Every  one 

speaks  so  well  of  her;  and  it  has  been  a  fine  thing 

that  her  mother  can  keep  her  in  V .  She  is  a 

good  girl ;  too  good  to  keep.  Some  young  man  will 


UNCLE  CARL  305 

walk  off  with  her  before  long,  and  she  can  look  high, 
too."  And  considerable  more  in  the  same  line.  I 
have  not  given  the  talk  verbatim,  but  you  have  the 
tenor  of  it;  and  I  have  not  the  least  fear  that  the 
odor  of  the  flowers  will  make  you  dizzy.  I  have 
great  faith  in  you,  Laura.  Keep  pure,  unselfish, 
sweet,  and  progressive.  If  I  should  ever  know  of 
your  getting  the  "big  head"  in  any  degree,  I  would 
feel  that  a  very  dark  cloud  had  come  over  the  sun. 
That  "if,"  however,  I  consider  an  impossibility. 
How  do  you  like  the  odor  of  tobacco  smoke?  This 
is  the  seventh  time  I  have  smoked  this  year.  I  am 
afraid  I  must  begin  again  though,  or  else  I  will  have 
to  have  some  larger  clothing.  I  weigh  169  Ibs. 
How  is  that  for  a  lump  of  sugar?  Good-night. 

UNCLE  CARL. 

Kaloma,  M ,  February  28th. 

To  Miss  Laura  Brentford, 

V ,  M . 

Greeting. 

Dear  Youngster:  I  have  no  news  to  write  to- 
night, nothing  much  in  mind  to  tell  you.  Perhaps 
before  I  go-  far  something  will  come  to  me,  but  there 
is  no  telling  what  it  will  be.  I'll  read  over  your  last 
welcome  letter  and  see  what  it  may  suggest. 

It  was  good  of  you  to  write  to  "His  Loneliness" 
twice  last  week.  I  thank  you.  Your  little  greetings 
cannot  come  too  often. 

There  are  three  things  suggested  in  your  last  and 
I  will  take  them  in  order. 

First:  I  am  certain  that  you  did  not  send  receipt 
for  the  last  "tin-pan"  payment.  No  harm  done,  but 

20 


306  UNCLE  CARL 

better  get  a  duplicate  and  send  it  along  with  the 
next  one. 

Second:  You  say  that  you  "hate  war"  and  yet  you 
"force  yourself  to  wade  through  details  of  war." 
That  is  not  necessary.  It  is  wise  to  know  the  causes 
which  are  the  basis  of  war;  to  keep  track  of  its 
progress  so  far  as  is  necessary  in  order  to  understand 
peoples  and  government;  but,  unless  one  is  to  make 
war  a  profession,  it  is  not  only  unnecessary  but  waste- 
ful to  devote  time  to  the  study  of  the  harrowing  de- 
tails. This  is  true  of  all  reading  of  public  events. 
I  rarely  read  the  details  of  war,  of  crime,  or  any 
other  events  with  which  I  am  not  in  sympathy.  But 
still,  one  should  keep  so  in  touch  with  contempora- 
neous history  as  to  be  able  to  speak  intelligently,  and, 
if  necessary,  act  potently  when  the  time  for  our  use- 
fulness arrives.  In  all  great  questions  we  should 
know  the  "why,"  in  many  we  should  knew  the  "how," 
but  in  very  few  is  it  necessary  to  enter  into  a  knowl- 
edge of  sordid  detail  unless  we  are  to  be  active  par- 
ticipants on  the  scene  of  action. 

Thirdly :  Your  letter  has  a  sin  of  omission.  I  tell 
you,  youngster,  it  is  time  you  supplied  some  of  your 
Uncle  Carl's  deficiencies.  I  rarely  write  you  with- 
out leaving  a  great  deal  unsaid;  but  some  way  you 
never  seem  to  say  for  me  what  I  should  have  put  in ; 
and  I  guess  that  this  "thirdly"  will  be  the  text  for  a 
sermon.  We  will  call  it  "Love."  (Here,  here, 
here!  Pull  that  nose  down  again;  there  is  no  occa- 
sion for  such  a  face.)  There  is  nothing  in  the 
"Golden  Rule"  that  speaks  of  love  directly;  but  as 
I  used  it  in  connection  with  "Excelsior,"  love  of  the 
highest  type  is  an  imperative  consideration.  The 
deeds  commanded  by  the  "Golden  Rule"  may  be 
scrupulously  performed,  and  yet  the  pinnacle  from 


UNCLE  CARL  307 

which  the  cry  of  "Excelsior"  may  be  heard,  be  never 
reached.  It  is  the  impelling  force  which  causes  us  to 
exemplify  the  "Rule"  which  must  determine  the 
heights  to  be  reached  in  the  Kingdom  of  Happiness; 
and  you  didn't  say  one  word  about  Uncle  Carl  leav- 
ing out  the  very  kernel  of  the  truth  which  he  tried 
to  ramble  about,  i.  e.,  "Motive"  Motive  is  the  very 
soul  of  every  deed,  good  or  evil;  and  Love  must  be 
the  motive  force  behind  the  "Golden  Rule,"  if  that 
rule  is  to  elevate  one.  Hence  I  am  going  to  talk 
about  "Love" ;  and  yet,  it  is  the  large  love,  not  the 
contracted  one,  which  I  am  to  speak  of.  Not  that 
early,  youthful  love;  that  passion  for  one  of  the 
opposite  sex  which  springs  up  in  the  hearts  of  the 
young  and  inexperienced,  and  which  gives  to  life  and 
to  the  world  the  richest  rainbow  hues  of  joy  and 
promise.  But  rather,  that  large,  confident  love,  calm 
and  earnest,  which  covers  a  multitude  of  individuals, 
and  seeks  the  highest  good  of  all  instead  of  two. 
And  yet  I  apprehend  that  he  who  has  not  felt  that 
young  passion  is  forever  unable  to  comprehend  in  its 
fullness  the  equally  strong  affection  which  enriches 
the  life  of  maturer  years.  It  is  probable  that  you 
have  not  felt  this.  It  may  not  come  to  you  for  years ; 
but  some  time  it  will  come  to  you,  and  then  you  will 
understand  better  what  I  write  now.  Most  people 
of  mature  years  have  passed  through  this  joyful  ex- 
perience (and  I  am  very,  very  sorry  for  those  who 
have  not) ,  and  as  they  look  back  upon  those  months 
which  were  fraught  with  such  joy;  as  they  see  them- 
selves emerging  from  the  walls  of  selfishness  which 
they  had  built  around  themselves,  and  within  which 
they  had  planned  and  studied  and  wrought  for  ends 
that  were  to  redound  to  their  own  selfish  honor  and 
glory;  called  forth  by  the  idealized  radiance  of  one 


3o8  UNCLE  CARL 

who  was  all-in-all  to  the  heart  of  each ;  seeing  in  the 
light  of  their  own  happiness  and  enthusiasm  a  world 
of  humanity  about  them,  all  with  the  same  human 
traits  and  desires,  yet  alas!  so  many  surrounded  by 
coldness  and  sorrow  and  hatred;  realizing  more  and 
more  that  each  is  an  integral  part  of  the  great  pul- 
sating heart  of  humanity;  they  must,  if  they  be  true 
men  and  women,  feel  themselves  grow,  and  enlarge, 
and  yearn  for  the  opportunity  to  help  others  to  a 
realization  of  the  same  happiness  which  they  enjoyed. 
The  consummation  of  my  own  happiness,  as  you 
know,  was  denied  to  your  old  Uncle;  yet  I  feel,  / 
know,  that  had  it  not  been  for  that  early  experience, 
I  had  never  known  what  love,  in  its  highest  sense, 
means.  This  love  of  which  I  speak  is  not  that  which 
causes  one  to  long  for  physical  caresses.  Indeed, 
caresses,  save  as  they  speak  of  the  soul,  are  rarely 
indulged  in.  The  love  which  uses  the  "Golden  Rule" 
as  a  measure  is  too  far-reaching  for  that;  yet  it  is 
the  same  in  kind,  only  grown  larger.  The  fierce, 
passionate  love  for  the  individual  would  destroy  the 
life  if  burned  for  many;  but  the  individual  fire  may 
be — is — sufficient,  as  a  sun,  to  cast  rays  of  light  into 
other  lives.  Rays  whose  heat  is  tempered  by  distance 
so  that  they  warm  but  do  not  scorch. 

It  was  Emerson  who  wrote,  "Love  is  a  fire,  that, 
kindling  its  first  embers  in  the  narrow  nook  of  a  pri- 
vate bosom,  caught  from  a  wandering  spark  out  of 
another  private  heart,  grows  and  enlarges  until  it 
warms  and  beams  upon  multitudes  of  men  and 
women,  upon  the  universal  heart  of  all,  and  so  lights 
up  the  whole  world  and  all  nature  with  its  generous 
flames." 

Yes,  one  must  have  felt  the  pleasures  and  pains  of 
that  earlier  passionate  love,  in  order  to  feel  that 


UNCLE  CARL  309 

broader,  more  helpful,  and  unselfish  affection  which 
humanity  demands,  and  of  which  the  Giver  of  the 
"Golden  Rule"  was  the  personification.  When  the 
"Master"  is  spoken  of  as  our  "loving  Elder 
Brother,"  we  understand  love  to  mean,  not  a  pas- 
sionate longing  for  physical  communion,  but  rather 
a  strong  affection  for  those  higher,  spiritual,  or  intel- 
lectual attributes  of  man,  common  to  us  all;  and  an 
earnest,  active  longing  to  assist  in  bringing  those 
attributes  to  their  highest  beauty.  And  so  should 
our  feeling  for  humanity  be.  Our  affection,  our  love, 
should  be  for  the  higher  self.  We  see  in  others  high 
capacities  for  enjoyment  and  helpfulness.  We  are 
bound  by  the  ties  of  common  humanity ;  as  members 
of  the  "Brotherhood  of  Man"  it  should  be  our  aim 
to  assist  each  one  over  whom  we  have  influence  to 
approximate  more  and  more  nearly  that  perfect 
love — the  love  of  soul  for  soul.  In  this  sense  there 
is  no  such  consideration  as  sex;  no  thought  of  physi- 
cal contact,  and  any  enjoyment  to  spring  therefrom; 
no  desire  for  possession;  no  hunger  for  exclusive 
use.  But  it  experiences  a  joy  in  every  step  upward.  It 
is  a  grand,  unselfish,  energetic,  willing  and  doing  the 
most  one  can  to  increase  the  sum  total  of  human 
happiness.  It  is  an  ideal  conception  of  "Peace  on 
earth,  good  will  toward  man"  put  into  action  and 
made  the  means  of  spiritual  and  intellectual  growth. 
And  this  is  my  conception  of  the  fundamental 
principle  which  must  underlie  the  "Golden  Rule,"  if 
they  who  adopt  that  rule  would  cry  at  the  end,  "Ex- 
celsior." And,  if  my  conception  is  right,  then  we 
should  certainly  strive  each  day  to  be  more  and  more 
earnest  in  scattering  abroad  the  flowers  of  Love;  a 
love  which — and  I  again  quote  from  Emerson — 
"knows  not  sex,  nor  person,  nor  partiality;  but  which 


310  UNCLE  CARL 

seeks  virtue  and  wisdom  everywhere,  to  the  end  of 
increasing  virtue  and  wisdom." 

Later:     [Written  with  a  pencil.] 

It  is  a  lucky  thing  for  you  that  my  fountain  pen 
ran  dry.  Had  it  not  done  so  I  might  have  drowned 
you  in  a  flood  of  ink.  Though  I  believe  that  you  do 
like  letters,  as  you  say  you  do,  which  are  exponents 
of  my  inner  convictions,  or,  as  we  call  them,  "ser- 
mons," I  am  afraid  that  this  one  is  too  long  and 
prosy.  Yet  you  may  now  experience  the  joy  of  con- 
trast. Laugh,  will  you,  and  say,  "Thank  you  for 
having  stopped  at  last." 

I  am  very  sorry  about  the  mother.  Let  her  rest  as 
much  and  as  long  as  possible.  Tell  her  I  will  try  to 
write  her  during  the  week. 

Love  to  everybody, 

UNCLE  CARL. 

Kaloma,  M ,  March  6th. 

To  Miss  Laura  Brentford, 

V ,  M . 

Greeting. 

"We  make  a  ladder  of  our  thoughts  where  angels 
step,  but  sleep  ourselves  at  the  foot." 

Dear  Girlie:  Last  week,  when  I  had  written  one 
of  my  usual  crude  "sermons,"  I  thought,  now  for  a 
while  I  am  not  going  to  preach  to  my  little  girl  any 
more.  My  dry  old  moralizings  may  do  for  a  time, 
but  they  must  be  very  tiresome  and  give  one  the  dys- 
pepsia as  a  steady  diet.  Your  last  letter,  however, 
makes  it  seem  wise  to  me  to  add  one  more  prosy 
mess.  Not  to  advise,  not  especially  to  influence ;  but 
rather  to  suggest,  and  drive  away  a  cloudlet  or  so  of 
mist. 


UNCLE  CARL  311 

First,  you  start  out  with  the  mention  of  a  girl 
friend  whose  thoughts  had  impressed  you,  but  who 
failed  to  exemplify  her  ideals  when  you  thought  she 
should  have  done  so.  I  think,  perhaps,  that  the  text 
I  have  chosen  (see  the  beginning  of  this  letter)  will 
in  some  measure  fit  the  case. 

We  all  have  our  ideals,  our  highest  conceptions  of 
right  and  duty,  but  who  has  ever  realized  them  in 
every  particular.  We  should  have  them.  We  should 
ever  endeavor  to  draw  nearer  to  them.  We  should 
discuss  them  with  the  understanding  friends.  But 
we  are  all  faulty  in  one  way  or  another,  and  often 
fall  far  short  of  the  perfect.  We  often  condemn 
others,  without  knowing  what  provocation,  real  or 
imaginary,  has  been  given ;  or  what  particular  weak- 
ness has  been  so  nourished  in  early  life  as  to  leave 
it  impossible  to  at  all  times  persevere  in  pursuit  of 
the  ideal.  And  we  often  do  things  which  are  equally 
culpable  and  refuse  to  condemn  self.  Indeed,  we  are 
prone  to  make  specious  excuses,  to  cheat  self  into  a 
belief  that  we  have  not  transgressed  the  law.  Do 
not  judge  the  girl  too  harshly.  If  she  has  been  weak, 
help  her  to  be  strong.  That  she  has  high  ideals 
shows  that  there  is  the  good  foundation ;  help  her — 
you — to  build  more  solidly  on  that  foundation,  and 
by  so  doing  help  yourself  to  become  a  more  nearly 
perfect  architect  of  your  own  life-building. 

You  speak  regretfully  of  just  "beginning  to  get 
your  eyes  opened"  to  the  universal  masquerading  of 
humanity;  and  it  is  something  to  grieve  over.  Yet 
you  will  in  time  become  tolerant  of  evil,  while  not 
condoning  it.  I  used  to  have  my  conception  of  the 
perfect  human  character,  and  thought  that  some  time 
I  would  find  it.  I  have  been  asked  if  I  ever  expected 
to  find  my  ideal,  and  have  answered,  "Yes."  That 


3i2  UNCLE  CARL 

was  many  years  ago.  If  I  were  asked  the  same  ques- 
tion to-day,  I  would  answer,  "I  have  found  it" ;  and 
in  time  you  will  find  it,  but  it  will  never  be  found  in 
any  one  individual  unless  your  ideal  is  very  limited. 
Let  me  illustrate : 

When  you  began  to  study  music  as  a  child  I  will 
warrant  that  you  felt  as  if  you  had  a  monumental 
task  before  you;  perhaps  almost  insurmountable. 
After  a  time  you  were  able  to  play  a  rich  chord  here 
and  there,  and  later  to  play  pieces  of  music  through ; 
and  then,  did  you  not  feel  as  if  you  knew  about  all 
there  was  to  know  about  music,  and  that  all  you 
needed  to  make  you  a  fine  musician  was  practice? 
But  later,  you  went  to  your  present  home ;  you  began 
higher  studies;  and  now  you  find  in  the  studies  of 
harmony  a  grander,  richer  field  than  you  had  ever 
suspected.  Is  it  not  so? 

There  is  the  student  of  philosophy — I  speak  with 
knowledge  here,  for  I  have  been  somewhat  of  a  stu- 
dent in  that  line  myself.  When  I  first  began  to  read 
philosophy  it  was  hard.  It  seemed  as  if  the  knowl- 
edge given,  even  for  a  beginner,  was  altogether  too 
deep.  I  persevered,  and  when  I  had  studied  for  a 
few  years  I  thought  that,  with  my  grasp  of  the 
"nebular  hypothesis,"  and  numerous  fundamental 
laws,  I  knew  about  all  there  was  to  know  in  phi- 
losophy, except,  perhaps,  a  few  unimportant  details. 
It  seemed  as  if  all  was  a  hard,  dry  system  of  facts; 
and  at  the  age  of  twenty-one  I  considered  that  I  was 
a  very  important  factor  in  the  world;  in  fact,  it 
seemed  to  me  that  the  universe  could  hardly  get  along 
unless  I  wiggled  my  tongue  so  that  the  "powers  that 
be"  might  know  how  to  run  it.  But  I  grew.  I 
studied  more,  and  new  fields  opened  before  me;  the 
horizon  enlarged  and  receded,  and  now — now — I  can 


UNCLE  CARL  313 

just  begin  to  hear,  afar  off,  the  grand,  rich  harmonies 
of  the  "music  of  the  spheres";  and  just  one  rich 
chord  of  that  music  is  grander  to  my  comprehension 
than  all  of  the  knowledge  which  seemed  to  me  so  im- 
mense fifteen  years  ago.  Even  as  to  you  the  chords 
and  combinations  of  melody  which  you  comprehend 
in  your  advanced  studies  of  harmony,  seem  so  much 
higher  and  grander  than  what  you  thought  you 
knew  a  few  years  ago.  And  so  it  is  in  the  study  of 
humanity.  In  the  beginning  we  look  with  some  won- 
der at  the  knowledge  manifested  by  our  elders.  We 
grow  and  observe,  and  finally  think  that  we  know 
human  nature.  We  begin  sometimes  to  wonder  if 
such  a  thing  as  perfection  is  anywhere.  One  after 
another  our  friends  show  a  streak  of  darkness  in  the 
character,  and  we  say,  "Our  eyes  are  beginning  to 
open.  None  is  perfect.  There  is  not,  there  cannot 
be  a  human  ideal."  But  we  live  on  and  still  observe, 
and  after  a  time  we  learn  to  take  the  evil  as  neces- 
sary, as  something  that  we  cannot  altogether  avoid; 
and,  if  we  are  true,  we  begin  to  look  for  the  good  in 
each  individual;  and  at  last  we  can  cry,  "I  have 
found  my  ideal.  In  the  'brotherhood  of  man,'  in 
the  great  throbbing  heart  of  humanity  as  a  whole,  I 
find  every  grace,  every  beauty;  every  holy,  sympa- 
thetic, loving  beauty.  From  this  ideal  I  hear  the 
grand  harmonies  of  the  Eternal  Good." 

"There  is  no  music  in  a  rest  that  I  know  of,  but 
there  is  the  making  of  music  in  it,"  said  Ruskin;  and 
although  evil  is  evil  under  any  and  all  circumstances, 
yet  by  its  contrast  it  serves  as  a  "rest,"  and  enables 
us  to  better  apprehend  the  beauties  and  grandeur  of 
the  chords  to  follow. 

And  now,  girlie,  to  the  "secondly."  You  wanted 
me  to  write  you  "something  nice"  about  the  "dead 


314  UNCLE  CARL 

secret"  you  told  me  of.  I  am  afraid  that  I  cannot  do 
it.  On  such  a  topic  the  words  of  the  elders  are, 
seemingly,  seldom  wholly  "nice"  to  the  young;  and 
yet  I  must  say  something,  and  I  trust  you  to  find  my 
heart  in  it.  I  thank  you  for  the  confidence,  although 
it  is  a  state  of  affairs  that  does  not  altogether  sur- 
prise me.  What  I  have  to  say  in  connection  with  it 
is  neither  command,  nor  advice,  nor  request.  But  I 
shall  try  to  suggest  something,  perhaps;  maybe 
awaken  some  memory,  and  trust  you  to  do  the  right 
thing.  It  is  largely  because  I  felt,  rather  than  saw, 
this  event,  that  I  have  during  the  past  year  preached 
so  many  "sermons."  Thoughts  that  were  part  of  my 
own  heart,  events  of  my  own  life,  suggestions  that  I 
hoped  would  give  you  strength  and  development,  I 
have  given  you  in  a  short  year  or  so  when  ordinarily 
I  would  have  stretched  them  over  a  half  decade.  I 
wonder  what  fruit  they  will  bear?  The  seeds  I 
sought  to  plant  were  "conscientiousness,"  "patient 
thought,"  "absolute  sincerity,"  and  ''courage  of  con- 
viction." Though  Mr.  C were  the  "perfect 

ideal,"  I  would  yet  disapprove  of  your  engagement 
at  this  time.  As  you  have  said,  "you  are  willing  to 
wait  years."  Promises  of  affection,  etc.,  may  be  all 
right,  the  mother  knows  best;  but  you  are  both  young 
and  neither  should  be  bound  by  promise  of  marriage 
or  "an  engagement."  If  the  love  continues  the  en- 
gagement may  be  made  and  announced  when  the  time 
for  the  consummation  can  be  accurately  fixed.  I  am 
not  pleased  to  think  that  an  "announcement"  should 
be  even  considered  under  present  conditions,  nor 
while  either  of  you  is  a  student.  Understand  me, 
dear,  I  am  not  selfish  in  this  (I  think  that  you  have 
had  some  proof  that  I  look  only  for  your  good  and 
happiness)  ;  but  look  at  your  own  admissions,  in  your 


UNCLE  CARL  315 

last  letter.  You  thought  that  you  were  a  good  judge 
of  human  nature,  but,  as  you  say,  you  "are  just  be- 
ginning to  get  your  eyes  opened."  You  have  not 
even  reached  the  stage  where  you  are  a  fairly  good 
judge  of  the  inner  character.  Words  are  easily 
spoken,  but  remember  that  "Words  are  but  leaves; 
deeds  are  fruits."  Yet,  while  you  have  been  willing 
to  condemn  the  girl  friend  for  her  "slip,"  you  say 

you  have  known  Mr.  C "over  a  year,"  and  that 

"you  know  him." 

You  do  not! 

I  hope  that  he  is  all  that  you  think  him  to  be,  but 
it  is  not  necessary  to  be  "engaged"  to  him;  and  if  he 
is  true,  and  worthy  of  you,  the  engagement  or  non- 
engagement  will  make  no  difference.  I  don't  know 
his  age,  but  I  do  know  yours.  I  know  that  you  think 
that  you  are  "older  than  you  seem,"  that  you  have 
"older  thoughts"  than  the  average  girl  of  your  age; 
and  I  also  know  that  you  are  not  one  bit  "older"  than 
the  average,  and  that  you  are  just  beginning  to  see 
life  as  it  is;  to  develop  higher,  clearer  thoughts  and 
ambitions ;  and  also  that  the  next  three  or  four  years 
are  the  ones  which  will  be  full  of  changes  and 
growth;  and  that  the  compass  needle  will  be  sorely 
tried  before  you  have  laid  down  the  course  which 
your  boat  shall  follow.  I  want  you  to  be  free  during 
this  time.  I  believe  it  to  be  better  for  you. 

And  now,  again,  I  want  to  suggest  something  else. 
You  are  to  decide  as  to  whither  your  duty  shall  direct 
you,  and  whether  your  "courage  of  conviction"  will 
carry  you  on  your  way.  Some  years  ago  a  little  girl 
sat  on  my  knee  in  my  office  (for  almost  the  last  time) 
and  said,  "Oh,  Uncle  Carl,  I  just  want  to  learn  to  do 
something  where  I  can  earn  money,  so  that  I  can  do 
for  mamma  when  I  get  big.  She  is  just  doing  so 


316  UNCLE  CARL 

much  for  me  and  I  am  just  spoiling  to  help  her." 
Dear  little  girl!  There  spake  the  true,  affectionate, 
sympathetic  heart.  I  believe  in  that  heart;  and  it 
was  just  such  evidences  as  this  which  led  Uncle  to  try 
to  so  arrange  things  as  that  the  cherished  wish  might 
be  fulfilled.  The  development  of  character  was 
the  main  object,  because  in  the  higher  development  of 
such  characteristics  lay  the  highest  happiness.  The 
secondary  object,  education,  is  only  the  means  to  the 
end.  You  may  be  looking  forward  to  the  time  when 
you  will  have  a  home  of  your  own,  which  the  mother 
shall  share;  but  a  home  furnished  by — him.  Laura, 
if  you  should  devote  the  next  few  years  to  the  mother; 
work,  shield,  build  and  establish,  with  her,  a  home 
which  shall  be  her  own,  and  from  which  she  could  let 
her  heart  go  out  to  you  in  your  home,  you  would 
be  doing — ?  it  is  for  you  to  decide.  The  mother 
wishes  nothing  so  much  as  your  perfect  happiness. 
She  will  never  lose  sight  of  nor  neglect  you  while 
her  life  lasts.  She  may  advise  you  contrary  to  what 
I  suggest,  but  on  this  question  decide  for  yourself. 
You  have  had  so  much  done  for  you,  so  many  years 
has  that  loving  woman  labored  for  you,  that  even 
though  she  might  wish  to  sacrifice  more,  and  still 
more,  yet  I  feel  sure  that  some  sacrifice  from  you  for 
love  and  duty  will  gladden  and  cause  your  mother's 
heart  to  swell  with  pride.  Your  own  highest  happi- 
ness is  at  stake  in  deciding  these  questions.  I  advise 
nothing.  /  trust  you. 

Forgive  me,  dear,  and  still  trust  your  old  Uncle's 
heart.     I  have  no  objection  to  your  showing  this  to 

Mr.  C .    If  he  is  all  that  you  think  that  he  is;  if 

he  is  worthy  of  my  little  girl,  I  am  not  afraid  of  his 
answer. 


UNCLE  CARL  317 

I  have  taken  my  pipe  again,  and  have  been  "seeing 
things."  I  have — through  the  smoke — been  looking 
down  into  that  secret  chamber  in  Uncle's  heart,  where 
slumbers  that  dear  one  whose  spirit  watches  for  me 
"at  the  gate."  For  years  I  have  been  pleased  to  see 
you  in  that  chamber;  to  think  of  you  as  sitting  beside 
her,  feeling  her  pure  influence  and  growing  to  the 
full  beauty  of  her  life's  character.  The  "sermons" 
which  I  have  written  you  are  such  as  she  would  have 
had  given;  and  in  you  I  had  hoped  that  all  that  she 
had  hoped  and  worked  for  would  materialize,  except- 
ing only  that  union  with  my  own  life  and  work  which 
my  advancing  years  forbid.  Oh!  Irene,  Irene,  thy 
good  deeds  cannot  die.  If  they  have  seemed  at  times 
to  yield  no  fruit,  they  shall  still  be  as  seeds  shut  up 
in  the  darkness  of  a  sepulchre;  and  when  they  are 
taken  from  the  dead  hand  of  time,  years  afterward, 
perhaps,  they  shall  rise  in  golden  grain.  Thy  har- 
vest, dear  one,  shall  be  great ;  and  even  through  the 
medium  of  my  own  lonely  heart,  I  trust  that  many 
additional  fields  of  wheat  may  stand  ready  for  the 
reaper ! 

And  so  good  night.  The  highest,  richest  and 
purest  of  life's  joys,  may  they  be  yours. 

Affectionately, 

UNCLE  CARL. 

"My  experience  of  life  makes  me  sure  of  one  thing, 
which  I  do  not  try  to  explain ;  that  the  sweetest  hap- 
piness we  ever  know  comes,  not  from  love  but  from 
sacrifice;  from  the  effort  to  make  others  happy." — 
O'Reilly. 


3i8  UNCLE  CARL 

Kaloma,  M ,  September  loth. 

To  Miss  Laura  Brentford, 

V ,  M . 

Greeting. 

Dear  Laura :  I  think  that  I  will  give  you  a  little 
"song  and  dance"  before  retiring.  Have  had  a  busy 
day,  a  long  walk,  and  am  not  in  just  the  mood  for 
reading,  so  will  give  you  a  "sermon"  instead. 

I  presume  that  you  have  recovered  your  wonted 
courage  ere  this,  yet  your  last  message  gives  some 
food  for  thought.  I  can  perhaps  sympathize  with 
you  in  some  measure  in  your  feeling  in  regard  to  your 
misplaced  affection;  or,  rather,  in  the  affection  which 
had  no  commensurate  return.  I  do  not,  however,  tell 
you  as  you  said  you  supposed  I  would,  "to  forget 
him."  Rather,  remember  him;  but  let  it  be  a  mem- 
ory of  a  "has  been"  joy,  not  as  a  thing  to  be  longed 
for  now. 

You  have  some  purposes  in  life,  I  believe;  but 
what  you  need  more  than  anything  else  just  now  is  a 
great,  all-absorbing  purpose  for  the  distant  future. 
A  real  and  a  high  goal  of  a  definite  nature.  Not  a 
purpose  for  immediate  accomplishment,  but  one 
whose  consummation  will  take  years;  perhaps  many 
years.  A  purpose  to  be  dwelt  upon;  lived  for.  A 
purpose  that,  when  tired  or  blue,  may  draw  your 
mind  to  itself  and  shed  light  and  comfort  for  you, 
and  in  which  you  may  lose  yourself  to  the  utter  for- 
getfulness  of  petty  trials  of  to-day.  With  this  great 
aim  in  view  the  transient  evils  will  seem  less,  much 
less;  while  such  pleasures  as  come  to  you  can  be  en- 
joyed in  their  fullness.  And  while  you  keep  working 
for  and  toward  the  future  good,  you  will  be  able,  in 
memory,  to  look  upon  past  joys,  to  feel  them  again, 


UNCLE  CARL  319 

even  as  you  recall  the  fragrance  of  some  long-faded 
flower.  But  it  is  not  well  to  regret  and  long  for  the 
past  joys.  The  faded  flower  will  never  bloom  again. 
Take  pleasure  in  memory's  flowers  if  you  can,  but  do 
not  let  the  withered  joys  that  have  been,  so  cloud  your 
present  that  you  cannot  nurture  new  plants;  plants, 
perhaps  not  so  fragrant  of  bloom  as  the  past,  but  still 
having  a  glory  of  their  own  well  worth  the  price  of 
labor. 

And  then,  in  your  weariness,  you  ask  the  startling 
question,  "What  is  the  use  of  having  ideals,"  etc., 
etc.,  "And  why?  and  why?  and  why?"  Don't  do 
that  again.  You  didn't  half  mean  it,  and  it  is  over 
now;  but  don't  do  it  again.  Go  and  read  Olive 
Shreiner's  "Dream  of  Truth"  again.  Read  it  care- 
fully, and  then  ask  yourself  if  the  search  for  Truth, 
the  ideal  Truth,  was  not  amply  repaid  when,  at  the 
end  of  all,  a  single  white  feather  floated  gently  down 
to  rest  with  the  way-worn  searcher. 

Learn  to  distinguish  between  Ideal  and  Purpose. 
You  will  never  realize  the  ideal  either  in  yourself  or 
in  any  other  individual.  You  may  draw  ever  nearer 
and  nearer  your  ideal  if  you  will,  and  you  may  find 
it  in  humanity  as  a  whole  if  you  will  look  for  it;  but 
you  will  find  it  only  in  small  portions,  scattered  here 
and  there  in  a  multitude  of  individuals.  You  say  that 
you  cannot  "express  your  ideal,  even  to  yourself." 
That  is  true,  and  the  reason  is  simple,  to  me ;  but  as 
it  is  one  of  my  own  blundering  reasons,  I  don't  know 
that  I  can  make  it  clear  to  you. 

The  "ideal"  is  our  endeavored  conception  of  the 
perfect  good.  Sin  is  its  opposite.  If  you  cannot  de- 
fine your  ideal  clearly,  you  can  define  its  opposite. 
No  man  is  perfect;  all  have  sinned.  Indeed,  I  can 
conceive  that  it  is  a  sin  to  have  not  sinned,  because 


320  UNCLE  CARL 

one  cannot  understand  that  which  one  has  had  no 
experience  of;  and  only  by  having  sinned  can  one 
grasp  with  understanding  the  evils  of  life,  and  per- 
form intelligently  one's  full  duty  in  striving  to  elimi- 
nate as  much  as  possible  the  influences  of  the  "Imps 
of  Darkness."  ("It  is  in  the  presence  of  evil  that 
man  finds  his  duties  and  his  soul  its  progress."-— Bul- 
wer.)  The  Ideal,  being  the  perfect  good,  you  cannot 
define  because  you  have  not  been  perfect.  Having 
sinned,  you  are  in  position  to  define  sin,  and  to  know 
what  to  strive  against  in  order  to  approximate  more 
and  more  nearly  the  perfection  of  life,  or  the  Ideal. 

You  ask  various  "whys?"  but  I  think  that  I  have 
"preached"  enough  for  this  time.  (Do  not  misun- 
derstand me  in  the  underlined  words  about  sin.  I  do 
not  mean  to  suggest  that  any  one  has  the  right  to  de- 
liberately sin.  My  thought  was  only  of  the  immut- 
able laws  of  Nature.)  And  while  you  are  puzzling 
your  tired  brain  for  answers  to  some  of  your  queries, 
remember  that  it  is  not  necessary  to  answer  them. 
What  is  the  use  of  trying  to  find  out  "what  eternity 
is"  when  you  do  not  begin  to  understand  the  present; 
nor  what  your  "ideals  are  for"  when  you  don't  know 
yet  that  what  you  think  is  your  ideal  is  really  such. 
Just  try  to  understand  what  is  knowable  and  do  not 
try  to  fathom  mysteries  which  are  infinite. 

"Live  for  those  that  love  you; 

For  those  that  love  you  true; 
For  the  evils  that  lie  around  you 

And   await  your   action   too. 
For   the   cause   that   lacks    assistance; 
For  the  wrongs  that  need  resistance, 
For  the  future  in  the  distance, 

And  the  good  that  you  can  do." 

I  have  changed  a  few  words  in  the  above  to  ex- 


UNCLE  CARL  321 

press  special  thoughts.  Suppose  you  commit  it  to 
memory  and  "illustrate  it"  in  your  life  for  your  af- 
fectionate old 

UNCLE  CARL. 

Discuss  some  of  these  thoughts  with  your  room- 
mate. Between  you,  you  should  be  able  to  get  up  an 
argument  that  will  spoil  my  ground,  and  at  the  same 
time  give  you  new  light.  And,  again,  try  to  feel 
glad  that  the  other  girls  can  enjoy  their  callers, 
instead  of  feeling  sorry  because  you  cannot. 

Kaloma,  M ,  March  I3th. 

To  Miss  Laura  Brentford, 

V- ,  M . 

Greeting. 

Dear  Laura :  "I  have  decided  that  a  college  educa- 
tion is  of  no  earthly  use  without  health.  That  is  my 
final  decision.  I  have  thought  and  thank  and  thunk, 
and  that  is  what  I  truly  think.  Without  health  you 
can't  do  a  thing  that  the  college  education  is  for." 

In  a  long,  laborious  life  I  have  met  with  many  dis- 
appointments. I  do  not  recall  any — save  my  one 
great  personal  loss — that  has  been  so  full  of  regret  to 
me  as  when  I  read  the  above  lines  from  your  pen. 

I  am  at  a  loss  to  conceive  how  you  could  reach  such 
a  conclusion,  unless  it  be  that  your  idea  of  the  "pur- 
pose of  a  college  education"  is  the  very  narrow  and 
sordid  one  that  it  is  to  fit  one  for  a  profession  of 
which  the  object  is  personal  aggrandizement  of 
money,  position,  or  power.  Yet,  even  in  that  narrow 
sense,  I  can  hardly  see  the  logic  of  your  position ;  for 
if  one  must  earn  a  living,  be  the  health  good  or 

21 


322  UNCLE  CARL 

poor,  certainly  the  field  for  effort  is  enlarged  by  the 
education.  I  had  thought  that  you  understood  bet- 
ter why  I  was  desirous  that  you  should  be  where 
you  are.  Evidently  you  did  not  know  that;  neither 
do  you  seem  to  grasp  for  yourself  a  high  conception 
of  your  opportunities  and  ultimate  benefits.  If 
simple  financial  success  had  been  the  only  object,  I 
would  have  left  you  to  accept  some  position  as  a  clerk, 
or  stenographer,  or  perhaps  a  factory  girl ;  as  I  do  not 
and  have  never  thought  that  you  would  make  any 
large  amount  of  money  out  of  your  music.  Certainly 
not  enough  to  warrant  my  own  large  outlay,  and  your 
four  years  of  non-productive  life.  Nor  was  it  simply 
to  give  you  a  "good  time"  to  look  back  upon  in  future 
years.  That  would  not  be  justified  when  there  are 
so  many  sorrows  that  the  means  I  send  to  you  could 
materially  lessen.  What  then  is  an  education  for, 
and  what  my  purpose  in  helping  you  to  get  it? 

The  average  person  looks  upon  education  as,  pri- 
marily, an  enhancement  of  power  to  strive  with  the 
world  for  material  success.  College  education  is  only 
the  highest  layer  of  stone  in  the  foundation  of  the 
life-structure;  the  real  building  comes  later.  College 
education  gives  the  theory;  contact  with  the  world, 
the  practical  application  of  life-work.  But  there  is 
something  more — much  more — of  value  in  the  col- 
lege education  than  the  mere  making  of  money.  The 
chief  value  of  all  education  is  to  increase  human  hap- 
piness, both  for  others  and  for  self.  In  the  higher 
education  of  college  life  one  learns  how  to  reach  out 
for  the  best  that  is  in  life;  gains  intelligence  of  the 
working  of  various  laws  governing  the  special  courses 
adopted.  It  may  be  that  "botany"  is  one  of  the 
studies.  The  student  lays  the  foundation  for  future 
character  building,  and  through  all  the  years  to  come 


UNCLE  CARL  323 

his  knowledge  will  increase  his  value  to  the  world, 
and  pleasure  to  himself  "in  health" ;  and  will  in  large 
measure  nullify  his  pain,  will  teach  him  patience,  will 
cause  him  to  yield  a  goodly  influence  in  "ill"  health. 
Your  own  music !  You  have  laid  the  foundation  for 
a  joy  for  yourself  that  no  amount  of  ill-health  can 
utterly  destroy.  Try  to  imagine  yourself  as  racked 
with  pain;  a  hopeless  invalid;  always  dependent. 
Imagine,  also,  that  you  have  no  more  musical  knowl- 
edge than  I  have,  or  than  you  had  when  you  left 
Kaloma  (and,  of  course,  that  you  also  have  had  no 
higher  education  in  any  other  college  course) .  Your 
life  would  be  a  long  misery,  would  it  not?  People 
might  play  on  the  piano  for  you,  and  you  would  tire 
of  it.  You  would  have  little  to  occupy  your  mind  but 
your  own  unfortunate  physical  condition.  Now 
change  the  scene.  See  yourself  in  the  same  ill-health, 
but  with  an  advanced  knowledge  in  your  chosen 
work.  Your  mind  is  filled  with  great  musical  har- 
monies. A  master  appears  and  you  gain  a  grand  joy 
from  his  playing.  You  see  long  vistas  of  beauty  that, 
to  poor,  ignorant  me  is  only  a  dense  fog.  If  your 
education  is  carried  out  as  it  should  be  you  will  be 
lifted  out  of  yourself;  forget  your  petty  pains  and 
aches  and  sorrows;  and  lose  yourself  in  those  grand- 
est, highest,  most  glorious  harmonies,  the  "music  of 
the  spheres."  And  ordinary  mortals  will  look  at  you 
and  think,  "What  a  great  soul  is  there,"  and  you  will 
be  patient  because  of  your  higher  knowledge;  and 
unless  crippled,  you  will  be  able  to  make  some  of  the 
music  on  the  piano  yourself,  at  times;  and,  if  crip- 
pled, you  will  yet  be  able  to  impart  something  of 
your  higher  knowledge  to  others;  and  if  bed-ridden 
and  voiceless  you  will  yet  pour  out  the  music  of  your 
soul  through  your  eyes.  And  none  of  this  music 


324  UNCLE  CARL 

would  lighten  your  ignorant  days,  nor  help  you  to 
add  joy  to  your  faithful  friends,  were  it  not  for  the 
higher  education. 

Of  course,  it  is  better  generally  that  health  should 
be  ours,  to  accomplish  the  greatest  results;  but  your 
words  were  "a  college  education  is  of  no  earthly  use 
without  health."  /  say  that  if  ill-health  is  a  necessity 
there  is  nothing  that  can  so  help  one  to  bear  it  as  a 
high  education;  a  thoroughly  good  education  in  a 
chosen,  congenial  line.  And  let  it  not  be  forgotten 
that  some  of  the  greatest  accomplishments  of  man 
have  been  by  those  in  ill-health.  Literature,  science; 
aye,  you  can  doubtless  recall  one  of  your  own  master- 
composers  whose  life  was  one  of  pain;  and  some- 
times that  very  pain  is  the  cause  of  great  results.  As 
Bulwer  has  said,  "It  is  in  the  presence  of  evil  that 
man  finds  his  duties  and  his  soul  its  progress. 

Let  me  be  a  bit  personal.  I  am  not  very  much  of 
a  man  myself;  not  a  great  man,  certainly;  yet  I  have 
accomplished  some  few  good  things.  For  over  four- 
teen years  (from  seven  to  twenty-one  years  of  age)  I 
did  not  know  what  it  was  to  be  free  from  pain,  often 
intense.  I  had  not  a  college  education,  but  my  de- 
sires were  as  strong  as  if  they  had  been  stimulated  by 
the  knowledge  of  such  a  foundation  under  me.  Dur- 
ing these  years  I  pursued  my  work  steadily.  My 
strongest  principles  of  life  were  formulated  and  es- 
tablished. I  learned  patience  and  endurance.  My 
philosophy  in  fundamentals  became  clearer,  and  I 
was  often  lifted  out  of  and  above  my  petty  self  as  I 
grasped  new  truths,  as  I  saw  rather  than  heard  the 
"music  of  the  spheres."  And  through  it  all  I  was 
able  to  do  my  duties  in  life,  adding  something  to  the 
happiness  of  others  and,  I  hope,  not  increasing  sor- 
row. I  believe,  in  all  sincerity,  that  had  it  not  been 


UNCLE  CARL  325 

for  these  years  of  ill-health  I  would  not  have  been 
anywhere  near  the  man  I  am  to-day.  And  if  I  was 
able  to  build  up  my  life  under  such  conditions,  how 
much  more  could  I  have  done  had  I  had  your  oppor- 
tunities. 

No,  Laura,  the  best  use  for  college  education  is 
"character  building."  A  building  that  will  be  true 
and  beautiful  in  both  good  and  ill  health.  And  if  it 
does  not  do  this  it  is  indeed  valueless ;  and  I  shall  be 
very  sorry,  if  you  still  feel  as  your  letter  stated,  that 
I  have  denied  myself  to  place  you  where  the  chief 
value  is  so  little  appreciated  or  comprehended.  Say 
that  your  letter  was  a  mistake.  I  could  fill  a  score 
of  pages  on  this  subject,  but  I  guess  I  have  said 
enough.  Do  not  think  that  my  affection  is  any  the 
less.  It  is  not  that;  only  my  ability  is  so  limited  that 
I  like  to  feel  that  my  every  effort  in  giving  to  others 
what  was  denied  me,  shall  be  wisely  given,  and  ac- 
complish results  for  the  betterment  of  the  world. 
With  love, 

UNCLE  CARL. 


CHAPTER  XXIX 

Carl  Englewood  sat  in  the  balcony  of  his  hotel  en- 
joying an  after-dinner  cigar.  It  was  a  beautiful  day 
in  mid-summer.  The  extreme  warmth  of  the  season 
was  tempered  by  a  cooling  breeze  from  grand  old 
Lake  Michigan,  whose  blue  waters  he  could  see  glit- 
tering in  the  distance.  He  had  been  brooding  over 
the  disappearance  of  his  ward,  Hattie  Cramer,  and 
the  futility  of  his  search  for  her.  "It  is  now  nearly 
five  years  since  her  disappearance,"  he  thought,  "and 
here  I  sit  supinely,  waiting  for  something  to  turn  up ; 
utterly  impotent  to  discover  her  or  to  get  any  trace 
of  the  hound  who  was  the  instrument  of  her  abduc- 
tion. And  meanwhile  Stanhope,  who  has  become 
such  an  active  worker  in  the  political  field,  is  calculat- 
ing on  possession  of  the  property.  Himself  the 
prime  mover  in  the  girl's  disappearance,  he,  of 
course,  cannot  show  his  hand,  though  I  believe  that 
he  has  some  idea  of  where  she  is.  It  is  two  years 
before  the  estate  can  be  turned  over  to  him,  however, 
and  I  shall  insist  upon  every  hour  the  law  allows  be- 
fore giving  him  possession.  Heighho!  how  will  it 
all  end?" 

"Hello,  you  old  sinner!"  a  cordial  voice  inter- 
rupted. "Mooning  away  your  time  as  usual,  eh?  I 
should  think  you  would  be  out  playing  mumbletipeg 
or  flying  kites,  or  something  of  that  sort  such  weather 
as  this." 

"Bless  my  soul,  Courtright!"  exclaimed  Engle- 
wood, hastily  rising,  and  clasping  his  friend's  hand. 
"Who  would  have  expected  you?  When  did  you 
come  over?" 


UNCLE  CARL  327 

"This  morning's  boat,"  replied  Courtright.  "Had 
some  business  to  look  after  first,  and  now  I  am  here 
to  carry  you  off.  Wife's  orders;  got  to  do  it." 

"Well,  sit  down  first,"  said  Carl,  "and  tell  me  all 
about  the  folks.  How  are  they,  and  where  are  they, 
and  what  are  they  doing,  and  when  are  they  coming 
over,  and — " 

"Hold  on,  hold  on,  you  blamed  interrogation 
point,  give  me  a  chance,"  said  Courtright,  as  he  sat 
down.  "As  your  friendship  was  not  strong  enough 
to  bring  you  over  for  a  visit  in  nearly  a  year,  I  hardly 
think  that  you  deserve  to  have  your  questions 
answered." 

"Oh,  you  know  why  that  was,"  said  Carl.  "I  do 
not  feel  that  I  should  lose  track  of  Stanhope  for  long 
at  a  time.  I  believe  that,  sooner  or  later,  Jenkins  will 
appear  here;  and  I  must  be  on  hand  when  he  comes. 
Besides,"  he  added  facetiously,  "I'm  willing  to  be 
forgiven,  so  hurry  up  with  your  news." 

"I've  got  to  tell  you,"  said  Courtright,  "because 
the  wife  has  ordered  it.  But  you  don't  deserve  it, 
just  the  same." 

"Well,  out  with  it,  you  poor  hen-pecked  man,"  said 
Englewood.  "How  are  they  all,  where  are  they  all, 
and  what  are  they  all  doing,  and  what  special  thing 
have  you  been  ordered  to  tell  me?" 

"  'Hen-pecked,'  is  it,"  snorted  Courtright.  "If 
you  were  hen-pecked  a  tenth  as  much  you  would  be  a 
thousand  times  happier.  I  tell  you  that  the  only  life 
worth  living  is  to  be  'hen-pecked,'  as  you  call  it,  by  a 
thoroughly  good  woman.  That's  what  you  ought  to 
do,  my  friend,"  and  he  placed  his  hand  affectionately 
on  Englewood's  shoulder.  "Get  married,  and  settle 
down  in  a  cosy  little  home  of  your  own.  Of  course, 
you  couldn't  get  as  good  a  wife  as  I  have — that  grade 


328  UNCLE  CARL 

only  had  one  in  it  and  I  was  the  lucky  man ;  but  you 
might  easily  do  almost  as  well." 

"I  agree  with  you  entirely  except  your  last  asser- 
tion," replied  Carl.  "But  marriage  is  out  of  the 
question  with  me.  I  have  never  felt  that  I  could  re- 
place the  little  girl  I  lost  so  long  ago;  and  besides," 
with  a  humorous  smile,  "I  consider  that  any  woman 
who  would  be  so  foolish  as  to  marry  me  now,  would 
be  too  foolish  for  me  to  marry.  I  wouldn't  want  a 
foolish  wife.  But  this  is  not  following  out  your 
orders.  What  is  your  news?" 

"I  didn't  say  that  I  had  any  news;  only  orders," 
replied  the  lawyer.  "The  fact  is,  that  I  have  pur- 
chased the  Hartwell  cottage;  a  beautiful  little  sum- 
mer home  some  eight  miles  up  the  lake  shore.  The 
wife  and  children  are  all  there  and  settled,  and  they 
have  fixed  up  a  special  room  for  you ;  and  my  orders 
are  to  bring  you  up  there  to-night  on  the  boat,  and 
you  are  to  make  your  home  with  us  until  further 
orders  from  the  commander-in-chief." 

"But,  my  friend,"  expostulated  Englewood,  "this 
is  indeed  very  kind,  but  I  cannot  accept  such  a  propo- 
sition. I  feel,  as  you  know,  that  I  must  be  here;  not 
only  to  be  on  the  watch  for  Jenkins,  but  I  also  have 
work,  much  work  to  do  here." 

"We  know  all  about  that,"  replied  Courtright. 
"We  don't  expect  nor  want  such  a  cantankerous 
galoot  as  you  are  to  be  hanging  about  all  of  the  time. 
But  we  expect  you  to  take  the  boat  up  shore  each 
evening, — it  touches  at  our  dock, — stay  all  night,  and 
you  can  return  on  the  morning  boat,  reaching  here 
about  seven-thirty.  I  shall  be  away  much  of  the  time, 
as  my  business  needs  me  in  Chicago,  though  I  shall  be 
over  every  Sunday  at  least;  and  we  expect  you  to 
protect  my  family  and  keep  the  bears  and  elephants 


UNCLE  CARL  329 

away  during  the  night.  Sundays  you  are  expected  to 
stay  all  day.  Such  are  my  orders  and  they  must  be 
obeyed." 

"At  what  hour  in  the  evening  does  the  boat  leave 
here?"  asked  Carl. 

"Six-thirty,"  was  the  answer,  "and  you  will  reach 
home  in  time  for  supper  and  a  romp  with  the  chil- 
dren before  dark.  It  will  be  a  recreation  and  a  rest 
for  you,  and  at  the  same  time  you  will  be  near  enough 
to  Kaloma  to  keep  in  touch  with  affairs." 

'I  can  hardly  thank  you  and  your  good  wife  enough 
for  your  thoughtfulness,  Courtright,"  said  Carl,  "and 
I  shall  be  more  than  glad  to  accept  your  kindness. 
There  will  be  nights,  however,  when  I  shall  not  be 
able  to  go  up  there,  for  just  now  affairs  in  our  local 
politics  are  beginning  to  move;  and  the  Federation, 
in  which  I  take  an  active  interest,  has  much  to  do. 
But  I'll  be  with  your  people  as  often  as  I  can." 

"Good  for  you,  old  fellow!"  said  the  lawyer.  "I 
was  afraid  you  would  be  stubborn;  but  I'm  mighty 
glad  to  find  you  sensible  for  once.  By  the  way, 
speaking  of  politics,  what's  doing;  anything 
special?" 

"About  as  usual,"  replied  Carl.  "It's  rather  early 
yet  for  active  work,  though  the  organization  keeps  in 
constant  touch  with  events.  There  will  be  three 
tickets  in  the  field  this  fall,  and  we  will  no  doubt  find 
satisfactory  men  to  support  amongst  the  regular 
nominees.  We  expect  that  the  office  of  representa- 
tive, however,  will  give  some  trouble.  It  is  probable 
that  the  Federation  will  put  an  independent  candi- 
date in  the  field  for  that  office ;  though  that  will  not, 
of  course,  be  decided  until  after  further  and  decisive 
developments  at  the  regular  conventions  of  the  dif- 
ferent parties.  We  shall  hold  a  meeting  to-morrow 


330  UNCLE  CARL 

to  discuss  the  general  situation.  It  may  interest  you 
to  know  that  Stanhope  is  the  corporation  candidate 
for  the  office  and  will  undoubtedly  be  nominated  by 
the  Democrats.  He  will  be  a  strong  candidate,  too, 
as  he  will  have  the  backing  not  only  of  his  party,  and 
the  corporation,  which  is  anxious  to  secure  certain 
concessions  at  the  next  term,  but  we  have  reason  to 
believe  that  the  machine  workers  of  the  Republican 
party  will  work  for  him ;  putting  a  weak  nominee  on 
their  own  ticket  as  a  figure-head,  but  throwing  their 
influence  in  favor  of  the  corporation  candidate.  Of 
course  this  may  not  turn  out  as  planned ;  but  we  are 
keeping  in  touch  with  the  game  so  far  as  possible, 
and  will  be  prepared  to  checkmate  them." 

"You'll  need  a  good  man  and  a  strong  one,  too,  to 
beat  that  combination,"  said  Courtright.  "Have  you 
any  one  in  view?" 

"No  one,  at  present,"  said  Carl.  "There  have 
been  several  mentioned,  but  no  decisive  action  will  be 
taken  until  fall.  We  will  be  able  to  find  a  fit  candi- 
date if  it  becomes  necessary.  By  the  way,  to  change 
the  subject,  how  is  the  Pheasant  mine  coming  on?  I 
haven't  heard  about  it  in  some  months." 

"Fine,  fine!"  said  the  lawyer.  "We  have  at  last 
got  everything  in  shape;  and  began  active  work  last 
week.  Have  a  hundred  stamps  at  work,  all 
machinery  paid  for,  and  I  expect  favorable  reports 
daily.  We  have  enough  rich  ore  in  sight  to  pay  divi- 
dends from  the  start.  That  man  Stuart  is  coming  out 
all  right,  too;  he  has  developed  sterling  qualities, 
both  as  manager  and  man.  We  have  watched  him 
closely,  and  I  am  convinced  that  his  one  slip  and  its 
detection  was  a  severe  enough  lesson  to  prevent  him 
from  'falling  from  grace'  again.  He  says  that  if  it 
hadn't  been  for  you  he  would  have  been  behind  the 


UNCLE  CARL  331 

bars  before  this ;  but  as  it  is,  you  made  a  man  of  him. 
He  is  honest,  clean  in  his  methods,  and  I  believe 
worthy  of  trust." 

"I  am  glad  of  that,"  said  Englewood,  "and  hope 
that  your  investments  will  bring  you  in  a  goodly 
profit.  But  now  I  must  be  off,  as  I  have  an  engage- 
ment shortly.  What  are  you  going  to  do  this  after- 
noon, anything  special?" 

"Yes,  I  have  some  legal  business  to  look  after," 
said  Courtright.  "I'll  meet  you  at  the  boat  this  even- 
ing." 

"All  right,  I'll  be  there.  So  long,"  said  Carl  as 
the  two  friends  separated,  the  lawyer  to  attend  court, 
while  Englewood  passed  the  afternoon  with  his  com- 
mittee discussing  the  plans  for  the  coming  cam- 
paign. 

Carl  was  not  himself  a  very  enthusiastic  cam- 
paigner. He  had  too  little  tolerance  for  double-deal- 
ing. Was  too  honest  to  succeed  as  a  public  man  or  as 
an  office-holder.  Or,  at  least,  that  had  been  the 
opinion  of  many.  As  the  political  game  has  been 
played  in  modern  times,  a  man  must  be  ready  to  yield 
or  conceal  principles  in  order  to  gain  place ;  and  our 
friend  scorned  to  do  either.  To  the  frequent  plea, 
"You  can  catch  more  flies  with  honey  than  you  can 
with  vinegar,"  he  was  wont  to  reply,  "I  am  not  after 
'flies,'  but  men.  Those  people  who  must  be  con- 
stantly fed  with  honey,  must  be  patted  on  the  back, 
and  flattered  and  cajoled  before  they  can  be  won,  are 
not  the  valuable,  patriotic,  conscientious  citizens. 
Nor  is  it  an  honor  to  be  elected  to  public  office  by 
them.  Were  I  to  be  a  candidate  for  office  I  would 
consider  it  no  honor  to  win  unless  I  had  with  me  the 
unstultified,  clean,  clear-headed  men,  rather  than  the 


332  UNCLE  CARL 

'flies'    that   buzz    about   only   because    of    honeyed 
words." 

And  so  he  was  not  particularly  energetic  in  cam- 
paign work;  leaving  that  to  his  associates.  Yet  he 
did  valuable  service,  and  was  a  decided  power  with 
the  people.  It  is  one  of  the  great  errors  of  most 
would-be  reformers  that  they  seek  to  accomplish 
great  results,  to  erect  a  magnificent  building  with 
poor  materials.  Human  nature,  while  in  the  main 
trending  in  the  right  direction,  is  yet  far  from  per- 
fect, and  one  cannot  expect  from  it  perfect  results. 
Yet  the  government  must  be  continued,  some  progress 
must  be  made  on  the  building,  and  the  best  use  must 
be  made  of  the  materials  at  hand.  The  greatest  ends 
cannot  be  accomplished  with  imperfect  means;  and 
Englewood  sought  in  his  quiet  way,  and  as  part  of 
his  life-work,  to  assist  in  so  improving  the  quality 
of  the  materials  at  hand  as  that  in  the  future  they 
might  be  used  to  further  the  greatest  ends;  to  so 
exert  his  influence  that  he  might  aid  in  hastening  the 
day  when  a  man  could  not  be  too  honest  to  succeed 
as  a  statesman.  He  was  unostentatious  in  this  work  ; 
yet  the  people  of  all  classes  felt  his  influence,  and  he 
was  loved  by  many  and  respected  by  all.  Though  he 
was  often  deceived  by  others  in  his  personal  work,— 
denying  himself  and  giving  largely  of  his  energy  and 
means  only  to  find  that,  in  many  cases,  his  benevo- 
lence was  unworthily  bestowed, — he  was  yet  a  keen, 
able  judge  of  men  in  their  relation  to  the  body  politic, 
and  rarely  erred  in  his  judgment  as  to  their  fitness 
for  public  duties.  He  was  therefore  considered  an 
invaluable  addition  to  the  "Civic  Federation,"  whose 
members  often  appealed  to  him  for  counsel,  and 
whose  ultimate  decisions  were  strongly  influenced  by 
his  opinions.  Having  concluded  the  day's  work  and 


UNCLE  CARL  333 

promised  to  be  on  hand  at  the  meeting  of  the  full 
body  the  following  evening,  our  friend  repaired  to 
the  wharf,  where  Courtright  met  him,  and  the  two 
friends  arrived  an  hour  later  at  the  lawyer's  pretty 
little  summer  home. 

It  is  needless  to  dwell  upon  the  cordial  greeting 
extended  to  Englewood.  The  whole  family  re- 
spected and  loved  him,  and  he  was  made  to  feel  that 
in  their  home  he  was  not  only  ever  welcome,  but  that 
his  presence  was  in  some  measure  necessary  to  com- 
plete their  happiness.  The  children  still  clung  to 
him.  To  Arthur  and  Mary,  now  well  on  in  their 
teens, — bright,  interesting  young  people  of  goodly 
promise, — he  was  the  prince  of  good  fellows,  while 
little  Beatrice  still  claimed  Uncle  Carl  as  her  own 
"chum."  Hattie  Braton,  too,  was  there;  and  she 
had  grown  to  be  an  exceedingly  charming  young 
lady ;  and  though  her  greeting  of  Englewood  was  as 
modest  as  it  was  cordial,  her  brown  eyes,  as  she 
watched  him  moving  about  with  the  family,  would 
have  told  an  interested  observer  that  to  her  there  was 
no  man  so  good,  no  man  so  true,  no  man  so  worthy 
of  the  highest  respect  and  affection  as  he. 

"Well,  well,  little  girl!"  he  had  said,  as  he  greeted 
her  with  a  hand-clasp,  "what  a  fine  young  lady  you 
have  grown  to  be.  I  am  proud,  too,  of  the  reports 
that  have  reached  me  of  you." 

"Thank  you,  Mr.  Englewood,"  she  answered, 
flushing  with  pleasure.  "One  for  whom  so  much  has 
been  done  as  has  fallen  to  my  lot,  would  be  base  in- 
deed if  she  did  not  do  her  best  to  prove  worthy  of  it 
all." 

"We  are  all  proud  of  Hattie,"  interrupted  Mrs. 
Courtright,  pinching  her  cheek  affectionately,  "and 
we  are  not  afraid  of  spoiling  her  by  telling  her  so." 


334  UNCLE  CARL 

"Honest  commendation  spoils  none  but  the  very 
weak  or  very  selfish,"  said  Courtright,  "and  Hattie 
is  certainly  neither.  She  is  so  very  unselfish,  in  fact, 
that  I  have  even  known  her  to  insist  on  our  having 
supper  as  early  as  possible  to-night  so  that  some  great, 
ugly  man  like  me  can  have  the  pleasure  of  taking  her 
out  for  a  boat  ride." 

"Now,  Daddy  Courtright,  you  know  that  isn't  so, 
you  old  tease!"  said  Hattie.  "I  never  said  anything 
of  the  kind." 

"Oh,  didn't  you !"  exclaimed  the  lawyer,  laughing. 
"It  must  have  been  a  little  bird,  then,  that  told  me." 

"I  think  it  was  a  bird;  only  it  was  a  big  goose- 
bird,"  said  Hattie.  "You  know  that  you  planned 
that  yourself,  because  you  said  that  you  knew  how 
Mr.  Englewood  loved  the  water." 

"Ah,  ha  !  old  fellow;  I  think  you  have  your  match 
here,"  said  Carl.  "But  I'll  spoil  your  fun  by  inviting 
Miss  Braton  for  a  boat  ride  myself.  Will  you  so 
honor  me,  little  girl?" 

"Why,  of  course  I  will,"  she  replied.  "I  wouldn't 
go  with  Daddy  anyway;  he's  too  much  of  a  'fraidy 
cat'  on  the  water." 

"Am  I  to  understand,  young  lady,"  said  Court- 
right  severely,  "that  you  repudiate  my  care  and  pro- 
tection, and  prefer  to  trust  yourself  with  this  weak- 
minded  spendthrift?" 

"I  certainly  do,  Daddy,"  said  the  girl;  "and  I 
don't  think  that  I  shall  be  the  loser  by  the  exchange. 
And  neither  will  you ;  for  you  have  the  best  woman 
in  the  world  to  go  with  you  and  see  that  you  behave 
yourself." 

"Thank  you,"  said  Courtright;  "I  want  you  to 
understand  then  that  I  wash  my  hands  of  you ;  that 


UNCLE  CARL  335 

is,  I  will  in  about  three  seconds,  if  I  can  find  the  wash- 
bowl." 

"Well,  do  come  in,  all  of  you,  if  you  are  through 
with  your  bantering,"  said  Mrs.  Courtright.  "I 
never  saw  such  a  quarrelsome  lot  of  children." 

"They  are  awful  bad,  ain't  they,  mama,"  said 
Beatrice.  "And  Uncle  Carl's  just  as  bad  as  any  of 
them." 

Snatching  the  girl  up  with  an  affectionate  little 
squeeze,  Englewood  seated  her  on  his  shoulder,  and 
with,  "I'll  bet  we'll  get  to  supper  first,"  started  a  race 
toward  the  house,  followed  by  the  rest,  romping  like 
school-children  out  for  a  holiday. 

And  what  a  beautiful  evening  it  was  out  on  old 
Lake  Michigan.  The  memory  of  it  lasted  for  many 
a  long  year,  and  helped  lighten  the  burdens  of  many 
sad  hours  and  wearisome  days.  The  Queen  of  the 
Night  was  in  her  brightest  mood,  and  was  reflected 
in  water  without  a  ripple  on  its  surface,  but  which 
slowly  heaved  up  and  down,  like  the  breast  of  some 
giant  sleeping  peacefully  under  the  guardianship  of 
the  spirit  world.  Although  there  were  several  boats 
on  the  water,  manned  by  nearby  cottagers,  an  almost 
absolute  silence  prevailed,  broken  only  by  the  regular 
splash  of  the  dripping  oars.  Out,  out  over  the 
mighty  waters  they  moved;  even  the  children  im- 
pressed with  the  solemn,  awe-inspiring  beauty  of  the 
night.  The  boats  had  drawn  closer  together,  as  if 
for  companionship,  and  for  long  no  voice  had  broken 
the  silence. 

"It  is  like  the  peace  of  Eternity,"  said  Englewood, 
at  length,  in  a  low  voice.  "Naught  but  rest  and 
glory,  with  the  majestic  Omnipotence  pervading  all." 

A  few  moments  later  Hattie  Braton,  at  Mrs. 
£ourtright's  suggestion,  sang  in  a  clear,  sweet  voice 


336  UNCLE  CARL 

the  old  hymn,  so  appropriate  to  their  mood,  "Nearer, 
my  God,  to  Thee,"  Carl  joining  with  a  soft  baritone. 
As  they  ceased  there  came  from  a  near-by  boat,  as  if 
in  response  to  the  hymn,  the  "Doxology,"  sung  by 
the  beautifully  modulated  voices  of  a  male  quartette. 
As  the  sounds  died  away  over  the  placid  waters  our 
friends  with  one  accord  bowed  their  heads  in  silent 
prayer.  Englewood,  alone,  remained  upright;  but 
stretching  his  arms  heavenward,  breathed  softly  the 
one  word,  "Irene." 

Later,  as  they  were  returning  homeward,  they  be- 
came conscious  of  more  worldly  matters,  as  voices  in 
the  distance  sang  the  words  of  "Auld  Lang  Syne." 

"What  a  blessing  is  friendship,"  said  Carl,  "and 
yet  how  rare  a  thing  true  friendship  is  in  these  days 
of  commercialism  and  self-interest.  We  need  to  re- 
member the  days  of  'Auld  Lang  Syne' ;  for  the 
hearty  friendships  of  those  days,  softened  by  distance 
perhaps,  and  the  rough  edges  that  caused  friction 
obliterated  from  our  memories  by  time,  go  far  toward 
neutralizing  the  shams  and  infidelities  of  modern  life 
and  action." 

"Oh,  I  don't  know  that  people  were  more,  or  less 
true,  in  those  days  than  they  are  now,"  said  Court- 
right,  as  he  brought  his  boat  alongside.  "I  am  of 
the  opinion  that  there  was  just  as  much  selfishness  and 
rascality  a  quarter  or  a  half  of  a  century  ago  as  there 
is  now." 

"It  may  be  so,"  replied  Carl,  "but  I  certainly  see 
more  of  dishonor  now  than  I  did  then.  Perhaps  be- 
cause I  am  in  more  active  touch  with  the  world.  But 
yet,  it  seems  to  me  that  the  objects  chiefly  sought  in 
this  generation,  if  not  less  worthy  are  at  least  worked 
for  with  less  scruples  of  conscience  than  in  the  old 
days." 


UNCLE  CARL  337 

"Don't  you  think,"  asked  Mrs.  Courtright,  "that 
the  rapid  growth  of  infidelity  is  largely  respon- 
sible?" 

/'Frankly,  I  do  not,"  said  Carl.  "Rather,  I  should 
think  that  the  rapid  growth  of  infidelity  is  the  result 
of  a  growing  selfishness,  and  resultant  stultified  con- 
science. But  with  'little  pitchers'  about  I  think  that 
topic  should  not  be  discussed  at  present.  I  notice 
that  even  in  our  modern  school  systems,  while  the  op- 
portunities for  learning  are  greatly  superior  to  those 
of  my  childhood,  yet  the  objects  of  knowledge  seem 
to  be  altogether  to  assist  the  student  to  financial  suc- 
cess. Almost  wholly  materialistic,  with  little  or  no 
attempt  on  the  part  of  instructors  toward  character 
building." 

"I  apprehend,"  said  Courtright,  "that  that  is 
largely  due  to  our  free  school  system.  The  number 
of  pupils  is  so  large  that  it  is  practically  impossible 
for  the  instructors  to  get  in  touch  with  individual 
students  as  they  did  in  our  school  days.  Besides, 
character  building  I  think  should  begin  in  the  homes.' 

"True,  it  should,"  said  Carl;  "but  the  homes 
themselves  are  not  what  they  were.  The  strife  to 
excel  one's  neighbors  is  carried  to  greater  extremes. 
Worldly  success  is  the  chief  aim,  and  is  spelled 
M-a-m-m-o-n.  So  long  as  the  children  grow  into 
money-makers,  and  do  not  fall  into  public  disgrace, 
there  seems  to  be  little  concern  on  the  part  of  the 
parents  as  to  their  morals.  I  find,  too,  that  pupils  in 
the  graded  schools  are  given  a  smattering  of  knowl- 
edge of  many  kinds,  without  gaining  a  thorough 
knowledge  of  any.  Even  the  commonest  yet  most 
necessary  studies,  'the  three  R's,'  are  neglected  for  the 

22 


338  UNCLE  CARL 

purpose  of  'getting  through'  these  superficial  studies. 
Fewer  studies,  and  those  thoroughly  digested,  so 
that  the  student  may  learn  how  to  study — for  the 
real  education  comes  after  school  days  are  over,  and 
the  school  should  teach  the  how,  and  form  the  habit 
of  study;  the  inculcation  of  the  principles  of  habit- 
ual truth  and  honor  and  patience,  are  certainly  pro- 
ductive of  better  results  than  the  system  in  vogue  to- 
day. I  have  in  mind  now,  a  pupil's  experience  which 
illustrates  but  too  well  a  quite  common  custom.  It 
was  at  the  writing  lesson  in  which  the  child  showed 
but  little  progress.  The  instructor's  chief  argument 
in  urging  the  pupil  to  do  better,  was,  'You  will  never 
succeed  as  a  book-keeper  unless  you  do  better  than 
that,'  instead  of  impressing  him  with  the  desire  to 
do  each  thing  well  for  its  own  sake;  to  take  pride  in 
present  accomplishment." 

"I  don't  know  but  that  you  are  right,"  said  Court- 
right.  "All  that  I  know  of  value  to-day  I  learned 
after  leaving  school.  My  school  days  laid  the  foun- 
dation, and  certainly  it  was  there  that  I  learned  how 
to  apply  myself;  'how  to  study,'  as  you  put  it.  I 
have  noticed  that  when  the  pupils  leave  school  now 
they  have  little  taste  for  study  of  any  kind." 

"I  think  that  I  know  why  the  difference  is,"  said 
Arthur,  who  was  in  the  boat  with  Mr.  Courtright. 
"It  isn't  every  pupil  that  has  mother  and  father  and 
an  Uncle  Carl,  who  make  our  studies  interesting. 
We  are  taught  cold  facts;  but  it  is  just  as  you  say, 
they  are  skimmed  through,  and  the  most  that  is 
taught  us  is,  'to  get  on  in  the  world.'  But  some  way, 
you  always  make  what  we  learn  interesting  in  other 
ways,  and  make  us  see  a  connection  between  what  we 
are  studying  and  social  life,  and  character.  And  I 
think  that  if  all  pupils  could  have  such  teachers  as 


UNCLE  C4RL  339 

you,  so  that  they  could  understand  how  much  more 
beautiful  it  is  to,  for  instance,  study  forest  life,  than 
it  is  to  cut  down  the  trees  and  kill  the  beautiful  birds 
just  to  sell  for  money,  that  you  would  not  have  so 
much  to  find  fault  with." 

"Arthur,  Arthur!"  said  Mrs.  Courtright,  not 
without  pride,  however;  "my,  what  a  long  speech 
you  have  made." 

"Arthur  is  all  right,"  said  his  father.  "He  has 
the  right  idea;  don't  you  think  so,  Englewood?" 

"Yes,  certainly  yes,"  replied  Carl.  "The  nearer 
we  get  to  Nature,  the  more  puerile  seems  the  striving 
for  social  preeminence.  In  Nature  there  is  naught 
of  dishonor;  it  is  only  in  the  artificial  life  that  the 
gaudy  trappings  and  the  glitter  of  pomp  and  power 
attract  to  the  detriment  of  character.  There  was  no 
money,  no  worldly  advancement,  out  yonder  on  the 
lake.  Yet  not  one  of  us  but  feels  better,  purer,  higher 
for  that  commune  with  Mother  Nature.  We  have 
been  face  to  face  for  a  brief  space  with  the  great 
Eternal.  And  is  it  not  true  that  we  shall  take  up  our 
work  to-morrow  with  better  heart  because  of  it;  shall 
be  more  patient  with  those  who  cannot  see  what  we 
have  seen,  nor  feel  what  we  have  felt?  Shall  we  not 
be  better  friends  with  our  fellows?  I  have  lost 
sight  in  this  discussion  of  the  topic  of  friendship 
that  I  started  out  with,  and  I  intended  to  give  you  a 
long,  prosy  sermon.  Never  mind,  you'll  get  it  yet 
probably,  so  prepare  plenty  of  cotton  for  your  ears." 

"Cotton!  Mr.  Englewood,"  protested  Miss 
Braton;  "rather,  I  would  get  an  ear  trumpet  that  I 
might  hear  the  louder.  Somehow,  I  never  tire  of 
hearing  you  'preach,'  as  you  call  it.  You  always 
talk  so  differently  from  those  one  meets  in  ordinary 


340  UNCLE  CARL 

society.  Did  you  ever  hear  the  poem  written  by 
Sam  Walter  Foss  on  Friendship?" 

"I  think  not,"  said  Carl;   "can  you  give  it  to  us?" 

"I  will  try  to,"  responded  Hattie.  "You  men 
haven't  given  me  a  chance  to  talk  at  all  and  I  shan't 
let  this  opportunity  slip.  In  Homer  a  man  is 
spoken  of  as  one  who  'lived  in  a  house  by  the  side 
of  the  road  and  was  a  friend  to  man.'  Mr.  Foss 
made  that  thought  the  theme  of  his  verses,  and  I 
want  to  repeat  them,  because  to  me  they  seem  to  be 
a  perfect  description  of  the  man  we  -are  so  proud  to 
claim  as  our  friend." 

"Now,  now !  no  flattery,  little  girl !"  exclaimed 
Englewood.  "Poets  are  very  apt  to  overdraw." 

"We  have  got  you  here,  and  you  can't  get  away 
from  us  unless  you  tip  us  over,"  said  Hattie.  "You 
have  never  let  me  speak  my  mind,  and  now  you  have 
got  to  listen  while  I — 'spout,'  Daddy  Courtright 
calls  it." 

"Bravo,  bravo!  daughter.  Give  it  to  him!"  said 
Courtright,  clapping  his  hands.  "You  have  met 
your  match,  Englewood,  you  old  fraud.  Now 
listen."  And  while  they  slowly  neared  the  shore 
Hattie  recited  the  following  beautiful  lines: 

THE  HOUSE  BY  THE  SIDE  OF  THE  ROAD.* 
(SAM  WALTER  Foss) 

(He  lived  in  a  house  by  the  lide  of  tke  road,  and  was  a  friend  to  man. — Homer.") 

"  'There  are  hermit  souls  that  live  withdrawn 

In  the  peace  of  their  sel f -con tent ; 
There  are  souls,  like  stars,  that  dwell  apart, 

In  a  fellowless  firmament; 
There  are  pioneer  souls  that  blaze  their  paths 

Where  highways  never  ran; — 
But  let  me  live  by  the  side  of  the  road 

And  be  a  friend  to  man. 

*  By  permission  of  the  author, 


UNCLE  CARL  341 

"  'Let  me  live  in  a  house  by  the  side  of  the  road, 

Where  the  race  of  men  go  by — 
The  men  who  are  good  and  the  men  who  are  bad, 

As  good  and  as  bad  as  I. 
I  would  not  sit  in  the  scorner's  seat, 

Or  hurl  the  cynic's  ban; — 
Let  me  live  in  a  house  by  the  side  of  the  road 

And  be  a  friend  to  man. 

"  'I  see  from  my  house  by  the  side  of  the  road, 

By  the  side  of  the  highway  of  life, 
The  men  who  press  with  the  ardor  of  hope, 

The  men  who  are  faint  with  the  strife, 
But  I  turn  not  away  from  their  smiles  nor  their  tears — 

Both  parts  of  an  Infinite  plan ; — 
Let  me  live  in  my  house  by  the  side  of  the  road 

And  be  a  friend  to  man. 

"  'I  know  there  are  brook-gladdened  meadows  ahead 

And  mountains  of  wearisome  height; 
That  the  road  passes  on  through  the  long  afternoon 

And  stretches  away  to  the  night. 
But  still  I  rejoice  when  the  travelers  rejoice, 

And  weep  with  the  strangers  that  moan, 
Nor  live  in  my  house  by  the  side  of  the  road 

Like  a  man  who  dwells  alone. 

"  'Let  me  live  in  my  house  by  the  side  of  the  road 

Where  the  race  of  men  go  by — 
They  are  good,  they  are  bad,  they  are  weak,  they  are  strong, 

Wise,  foolish — so  am  I. 
Then  why  should  I  sit  in  the  scorner's  seat 

Or  hurl  the  cynic's  ban? — 
Let  me  live  in  my  house  by  the  side  of  the  road 

And  be  a  friend  to  man.' " 

That  evening's  occupations  were  typical  of  many 
pleasant  hours  passed  during  the  succeeding  summer 
months  by  our  friends.  A  romp  with  the  children, 
in  which  all  joined,  a  row  on  the  beautiful  lake,  or  a 
stroll  on  the  beach  or  through  the  forest  that  cov- 
ered the  hills  back  of  the  cottage,  followed  by  a  quiet, 
chatty  rest  on  the  porch  often  lasting  until  mid- 
night,— so  loth  were  they  to  leave  the  glories  of  the 
night, — was  their  usual  routine.  And  they  all 
profited  by  it.  The  undemonstrative  yet  strong 


342  UNCLE  CARL 

friendship  and  affection  that  each  felt  for  all;  the 
unrestrained  freedom  from  the  conventionalities  of 
city  life;  the  voice  of  Nature,  drawing  them  onward 
and  upward,  expanding  their  souls  which  had  been 
cramped  and  tortured  by  the  amenities  of  "polite  so- 
ciety" ;  the  quiet,  thoughtful  conversations  in  which 
each  bore  a  part,  assisting,  elevating,  purifying  each ; 
the  rest — all  gave  to  this  summer  a  place  in  their 
hearts  and  memories  that  was  worth  more  to  them 
than  all  of  the  material  wealth  the  world  could  give. 
Ralph  Deneen,  too,  often  came  to  them  for  brief 
visits.  A  busy  young  man  was  Ralph.  A  worthy, 
energetic,  ambitious  young  man.  Ready  to  do  battle 
for  truth  and  justice,  but  especially  engrossed  at  this 
time  with  his  engineering  work,  in  which  he  gave 
promise  of  great  accomplishment.  And  he  was  al- 
ways welcome  in  the  little  circle.  But  to  Mr.  Engle- 
wood,  especially,  was  the  freedom  of  this  home  a 
grateful  boon.  Essentially  a  home-lover,  he  was,  at 
thirty-five,  homeless.  His  nature  was  such  that,  as 
we  have  seen,  his  boyhood  home  had  no  charms  for 
him,  and  in  the  interests  of  peace  he  could  not  feel 
free  to  go  there.  Inscrutable  law  had  denied  him  a 
happy  home  with  the  maiden  to  whom  his  heart  had 
been  given;  and,  faithful  to  her  memory,  earnestly 
striving  to  fulfill  the  work  endeared  to  him  by  her  co- 
operation in  its  planning,  he  had  never  felt  that  he 
could  place  another  in  the  sacred  niche  she  had  occu- 
pied in  his  heart.  Therefore  to  this  lonely,  earnest 
man,  the  Courtright  home  was  a  blessing  indeed. 
And  there,  it  mattered  not  how  trying,  how  disap- 
pointing the  day,  he  returned  each  evening,  feeling 
already  rested  and  elevated  in  anticipation  of  the 
quiet  hours  that  would  elapse  ere  another  day's  du- 
ties should  call  him.  He  became  more  communica- 


UNCLE  CARL  343 

tive,  too,  about  his  work;  for  he  was  a  very  busy 
man.  Though,  as  he  had  resolved,  he  took  no  active 
part  in  the  political  campaign,  he  kept  in  constant 
touch  with  the  work  of  the  Federation.  He  was  also 
occupied  with  his  mechanical  labors;  for  he  must 
not  only  live,  but  more  money,  and  more,  and  more, 
must  be  found  to  still  continue  the  search  for  his 
ward.  Add  to  this  his  benevolences,  of  which  he 
said  nothing,  yet  which  we  know  were  a  constant 
drain  on  his  resources,  and  we  can  readily  under- 
stand how  the  man  must  have  often  been  tired  and 
worried. 

One  of  his  surest  comforters  was  Miss  Braton. 
To  her  there  was  nothing  too  good  for  the  one  who 
had  saved  her  from  a  life  of  darkness.  Always  alert 
to  anticipate  his  wishes,  she  quietly,  modestly  saw 
that  nothing  was  lacking  to  insure  his  comfort.  Nor 
did  she  make  herself  unduly  conspicuous  in  so  doing. 
Where  all  were  vicing  with  one  another  to  show  their 
regard,  her  little  quiet  deeds  were  almost  lost  sight 
of.  Indeed,  Englewood  never  even  thought  of  her 
as  being  more  kind  and  thoughtful  than  any  other 
young  lady  would  have  been  to  a  man  so  many  years 
her  senior.  Yet,  almost  unconsciously,  he  began  to 
look  forward  during  the  day  to  the  little  home  circle 
that  he  would  meet  in  the  evening;  and  always  more 
prominent  than  any  of  the  other  dear  friends,  her 
face  would  shine  out.  With  her  he  had  come  to 
have  many  little  quiet  confidential  chats;  for  she 
was  quick  to  see  and  appreciate,  while  her  ready 
sympathy  for  those  in  distress,  and  her  wise  counsel 
as  to  methods,  were  often  of  great  value  to  him. 
She  wished,  too,  to  take  an  active  part  in  his  labors; 
and  on  several  occasions  had  passed  the  day  in  Ka- 
loma,  where  her  bright  face  and  cheery  words  did 


344  UNCLE  CARL 

more  good  to  some  sorrowing  hearts  than  even  Engle- 
wood's  grave  sympathy  and  strong  helping  hand 
could  accomplish.  Eventually  she  came  to  have  com- 
plete charge  of  some  of  his  work;  and,  without  his 
knowing  it,  saved  him  many  a  dollar  that  would 
otherwise  have  been  unwisely  given.  Hattie  was 
now  in  a  position,  too,  to  give  out  of  her  own  re- 
sources, for  her  art  work  met  with  a  ready  market. 
And  she  had  not  forgotten  the  words  spoken  by 
Englewood  on  that  dark  day  so  long  ago:  "I  will 
take  a  great  satisfaction  in  feeling  that  I  have  helped 
to  place  you  in  a  position  to  do  good  work,  and  to 
assist  other  unfortunates  to  surmount  the  obstacles 
to  successful  living.  There  are  many  things  in  life 
better  worth  striving  for  than  money,  though  that 
is  a  very  convenient  and  necessary  article  to  have. 
One  of  the  chief  of  these  is  character  building,  and 
I  hope  to  find  in  you  a  skilful  architect  in  that  kind 
of  work." 

She  had  long  resolved  that  she  would  fulfill  that 
hope;  and  though  she  said  little  about  it,  and  only 
when  questioned,  she  had  already  traveled  far  enough 
on  the  road  to  learn  to  love  the  work  for  its  own 
sake,  as  well  as  for  his.  Much  there  was,  then,  that 
these  two  had  in  common,  besides  the  peaceful  home- 
life  in  the  summer  cottage.  And  it  is  hardly  to  be 
wondered  at  that  Englewood's  erstwhile  semi- 
paternal  interest  should  be  merged  into  a  feeling  of 
sympathetic  companionship ;  and  that  he  should  look 
forward  to  her  participation  in  the  social  evening 
hour  with  deeper  pleasure  than  he  realized.  It  may 
be  that  neither  Hattie  nor  Carl  had  any  other  feel- 
ing for  each  other  than  earnest  friendship.  Yet,  de- 
spite the  disparity  of  their  ages,  the  conditions  were 
such  that  other  and  stronger  emotions  might  easily 


UNCLE  CARL  345 

follow.  And  it  was  the  unspoken  desire  of  Mrs. 
Courtright  that  these  two  homeless  ones  might  some 
time  build  a  little  nest  of  their  own. 

Ralph  Deneen  caused  that  good  lady  some  concern 
in  this  regard.  For,  though  naught  had  been  said 
by  him  as  to  his  affections,  it  was  plainly  evident  to 
all  but  Hattie  and  Carl  that  to  him  that  young  lady 
was  all  that  could  be  desired.  It  is  true,  indeed, 
that  the  young  man  was  deeply  Involved  in  Cupid's 
meshes,  and  was  looking  forward  longingly  to 
the  time  when  he  might  ask  of  Hattie  the 
greatest  boon  that  man  can  receive  in  this  world. 
He  was  a  manly  young  fellow,  however,  and  felt 
that  he  had  no  right  to  speak  until  he  could 
offer,  with  his  love,  a  comfortable  home.  San- 
guine and  hopeful,  he  did  not  doubt  that  he 
could  win  her  heart.  Indeed,  many  little  thought- 
ful acts  of  friendship  he  had  construed  as  being  evi- 
dences of  partiality  toward  him.  "We  are  both 
young  yet,"  he  thought,  "and  I  must  get  a  foothold 
in  the  world  first;  but  my  prospects  are  bright, 
thanks  to  dear  old  Uncle  Carl  and  father;  and  it 
won't  be  long  before  I  can  ask  the  dearest  girl  in 
the  whole  universe  to  make  me  the  happiest  of  all 
happy  men." 

And  so  the  summer  months  glided  by.  It  was  late 
in  August  that  Mrs.  Courtright,  impatient  to  see  her 
desires  fulfilled,  made  a  disclosure  that  was  startling, 
though  not  altogether  displeasing  to  Englewood. 
The  two  had  been  sitting  together  on  the  steps  of  the 
porch,  amusedly  watching  the  antics  of  the  children, 
who  were  romping  on  the  beach.  Ralph  and  Hattie 
had  strolled  out  on  the  little  dock  that  jutted  into  the 
lake;  and  their  figures,  silhouetted  against  the  crim- 
son glow  of  the  western  sky,  suggested  to  Engle- 


346  UNCLE  CARL 

wood  that  the  days  of  their  youth  also  were  near  the 
close;  the  work  of  the  adult  life  at  hand.  He  sighed 
softly  as  he  remarked: 

"I  presume  that  before  long  our  little  proteges 
will  be  seeking  homes  of  their  own.  If  they  should 
choose  each  other  they  would  make  a  handsome  pair, 
wouldn't  they?  Ralph  is  a  splendid  fellow,  and  Hat- 
tie  has  grown  to  be  a  beautiful  woman,  both  in  char- 
acter and  person.  If  I  were  not  such  an  old  fogy," 
he  added  jokingly,  "I  don't  know  but  that  I  might 
try  to  win  her  myself." 

"That  might  not  be  such  a  difficult  thing  to  do," 
said  Mrs.  Courtright,  "and  really  I  think  that  you 
owe  it  to  yourself  to  make  a  little  home  of  your  own." 

"Oh,  no,"  said  Carl  seriously,  "I  have  too  sacred 
a  memory  of  that  other  little  girl,  who  sleeps  under 
the  mountain  shadow.  Somehow,  I  have  never 
given  a  thought  to  the  possibility  of  placing  another 
in  her  place;  and  yet  it  was  one  of  Irene's  last  wishes 
that  I  should  do  so.  Somehow,  Hattie  often  reminds 
me  of  my  lost  one;  but  such  a  thing  is  out  of  the 
question  of  course.  I  am  seventeen  years  her  senior, 
and  she  could  hardly  think  of  me,  save  as  an  old 
friend." 

"Don't  be  too  sure  of  that,"  ventured  Mrs.  Court- 
right.  "The  difference  in  age  is  not  so  much;  why, 
Mr.  Courtright  is  fourteen  years  older  than  I,  and 
we  are  not  so  unhappy.  Compatibility  is  of  more 
consequence  than  age.  Besides,  my  dear  friend,  Hat- 
tie  is  a  girl  older  than  her  years,  and  is  able  to  ap- 
preciate character.  To  her  you  are  more  than  you 
think." 

"Mrs.  Courtright,"  exclaimed  Carl,  "don't  tell  me 
that.  You  certainly  cannot  mean — " 

"I  mean,"  interrupted  Mrs.  Courtright,  "that  if 


UNCLE  CARL  347 

you  really  want  a  happy  home  it  is,  I  believe,  yours 
for  the  asking.  More  it  would  not  be  right  for  me 
to  say." 

Abruptly  Englewood  rose  to  his  feet,  and  ner- 
vously taking  a*  cigar  from  his  pocket,  he  lighted  it 
and  walked  rapidly  up  the  beach.  Nor  did  he  re- 
turn until  long  after  the  rest  had  retired  for  the 
night. 

"Strange,"  he  had  thought  as  he  strode  over  the 
white  sands,  "that  I  have  never  given  a  thought  to 
such  a  possibility.  I  would  not  wrong  that  little  girl 
for  the  world.  Mrs.  Courtright  must  be  mistaken 
in  the  hint  she  gave  me,  for  surely  there  is  nothing 
about  me  to  attract  such  a  winsome  little  miss.  As 
a  friend,  and  one  who  was  given  the  opportunity  to 
help  her  when  she  was  in  need  of  help,  she  doubtless 
has  some  affection  for  me;  but  I  am  a  quite  elderly 
man,  now;  too  old  for  her.  I  have  not  progressed 
in  life  either,  as  one  should  to  be  worthy  of  a  place 
by  her  side  in  that  close  relation.  I  have  been  too 
much  inclined  to  sit  lazily  in  'my  house  by  the  side 
of  the  road,'  as  she  quoted,  and  have  let  the  travelers 
journey  on  through  the  'brook-gladdened  meadows,' 
and  up  the  'mountains'  beyond.  Heigh,  ho !  I  hope 
that  I  have  done  somewhat  in  helping  them  on.  I 
have  tried  to  encourage  them  a  little.  It  is  not  all 
that  can  make  successful  travelers  on  the  road  to  the 
mountain-tops,  and  perhaps  those  who  stand  aside 
as  they  pass,  and  give  them  words  of  counsel  and 
cheer  and  sympathy,  have  enabled  them  to  journey 
farther  toward  the  heights  than  they  would  other- 
wise have  done.  But  Hattie  is  worthy  of  one  who 
has  gone  far  on  the  road;  and  yet,  if  she  does  in- 
deed care  for  me,  I — I — why  it  seems  to  me  that  I 
may  have  been  all  wrong  as  to  my  regard  for  her. 
Do  I — can  it  be  that  what  I  thought  was  only 


348  UNCLE  CARL 

friendly  interest  is  really  something  warmer?  Why 
is  it  that  such  a  thought  is  not  repugnant  to  me,  as  it 
has  ever  been  when  marriage  has  been  suggested  to 
me?  Oh,  Irene,  had  you  but  lived!  Come  back  to 
me.  Counsel  me.  I  need  you  now."  And  stopping 
he  raised  his  arms  toward  their  "star."  But  the  star 
only  glimmered  for  a  moment,  and  then  a  passing 
cloud  hid  it  from  sight;  while  the  waves  washing 
the  beach,  with  their  prolonged  ceaseless  swish,  em- 
phasized his  isolation.  "It  seems  almost  a  sacrilege 
to  think  of  such  a  thing,"  he  muttered,  as  he  resumed 
his  walk;  "and  yet,  Irene  herself  bade  me.  Oh,  my 
little  pearl  I  To  you  was  given  the  best  of  myself. 
Never  again  can  I  feel  for  another  as  for  you ;  and 
always  through  life  I  shall  hope  for  the  meeting  'at 
the  gate.'  Yet,  I  do  so  long  for  a  home;  and  if  for 
this,  almost  your  double,  I  should  come  to  feel  some- 
thing that  would  make  it  right  for  me  to  take  her 
to  myself;  and  if  our  friend  was  not  mistaken,  and 
she  does  indeed  have  for  me  a  feeling  deeper  than 
friendship;  then  it  may  be  that  still  in  this  life  there 
is  peace  for  me.  But  if  such  time  should  be,  then, 
dearest  one,  both  of  us,  Hattie  and  I — for  she  shall 
know  of  you — shall  bless  your  memory;  and  at 
yonder  gate  you  shall  welcome,  not  one,  but  two 
souls  that  shall  blend  their  light  with  yours." 

And  as  he  mounted  the  steps  of  the  porch  he 
turned  his  eyes  again  heavenward;  and  the  cloud 
had  passed,  and  the  star  shone  with  a  brilliant  light 
as  if  in  benignant  acquiescence.  The  rising  night- 
wind  sighed  as  it  breathed  a  cooling  caress  on  his 
forehead.  A  bird,  disturbed  in  its  rest,  sang  a  few 
contented  little  love-notes  to  its  mate;  and  from  the 
beach  the  sound  of  the  restless  waters  whispered, 
"peace,"  as  he  quietly  entered  the  house  and  closed 
the  door. 


CHAPTER  XXX 

President  Moore  of  the  "Kaloma  Civic  Federa- 
tion," and  several  of  the  directors,  were  holding  a 
consultation  at  the  former's  office.  The  question  of 
whom  to  support  of  the  various  nominees  for  differ- 
ent offices,  had  been  under  discussion.  The  policy  of 
the  Federation  was  non-partisan.  The  members  be- 
ing of  all  political  shades,  the  Federation  took  no 
part  in  National  politics  as  an  organization;  but 
they  deemed  that  character  and  qualification  were  of 
more  importance  in  local  and  State  affairs  than  party 
affiliation;  and  though  they  took  no  part  in  the  con- 
ventions and  machine  work  of  the  various  political 
parties,  they  yet  discussed  the  nominations  made; 
and  selecting  without  regard  to  party  lines  the  men 
whom  they  felt  to  be  best  fitted  for  the  position 
sought,  the  influence  of  the  Federation  would  be  ex- 
erted to  compass  their  election.  In  this  way,  as  the 
organization  really  held  the  balance  of  power,  they 
had  succeeded  in  forcing  the  old  parties  to  place  in 
nomination  good  men,  as  a  rule.  Occasionally,  if 
none  of  the  nominees  for  a  given  office  was  accept- 
able, the  Federation  would  place  an  independent  can- 
didate in  the  field;  with  the  result,  usually,  of  filling 
the  office  with  a  good  man. 

At  this  meeting  agreements  had  been  reached  in 
regard  to  all  candidates  save  one. 

"It  seems  to  me,"  the  president  said,  "that  the 
candidates  in  nomination  for  representative  are  none 
of  them  acceptable.  While  Palmer  is  an  upright, 
honest  citizen,  he  is,  in  my  opinion,  lacking  in  the 
ability  necessary  to  make  him  valuable  as  a  represen- 


350  UNCLE  CARL 

tative  of  the  people.  Barker,  while  sufficiently  able,  is 
yet  one  whom  I  would  not  trust  very  far  in  the  face  of 
his  own  self-interest;  while  Stanhope,  well!  he  is 
a  man  of  considerable  force,  and  certainly  is  brilliant 
and  able;  but  though  I  know  of  nothing  positive 
against  him,  I  think  that  we  all  agree  that  he  is  the 
last  man  to  be  entrusted  with  so  important  an  office." 

"Certainly,"  said  Mr.  Howe,  the  Federation  treas- 
urer, "we  must  oppose  all  three  nominees.  With 
the  important  legislation  imminent,  we  must  have  at 
Lansing  not  only  an  able  and  forceful  member,  but 
a  man  of  absolute,  unquestioned  honor.  We  under- 
stand from  our  'scouts'  that  the  machines  of  both 
the  old  parties,  backed  by  the  powerful  influence  of 
the  Transportation  Company,  are  to  work  for  the 
election  of  Stanhope ;  with  what  end  in  view  may  be 
easily  surmised.  I  think  that  I  voice  the  opinion  of 
all  when  I  suggest,  not  only  that  it  is  our  duty  to 
place  in  nomination  an  independent  candidate  for 
this  office,  but  that  in  doing  so  we  shall  have  on  our 
hands  the  hardest  fight  of  our  lives." 

"Gentlemen,"  said  the  old  war-horse,  Captain 
Davis,  "there  is  no  question  but  that  we  all  agree 
to  what  has  been  said.  We  have  discussed  these 
questions  sufficiently,  it  seems  to  me,  and  the  only 
thing  left  for  us  to  do  at  this  time  is  to  decide  upon 
our  candidate.  There  is  to  my  mind  but  one  man  in 
the  district  to  whom  we  can  turn,  with  confidence  in 
both  his  ability  and  honor,  in  this  crisis.  That  man 
has  repeatedly  refused  to  become  a  candidate  for 
office,  for  reasons  which,  though  not  stated,  we  are 
bound  to  believe  were  adequate.  But  we  have  now, 
as  Mr.  Howe  has  stated,  the  fight  of  our  life  on  our 
hands.  It  is  a  crisis  which  I  feel  can  be  safely  passed 
under  the  leadership  of  a  no  less  able,  honorable,  and 


UNCLE  CARL  351 

forceful  man  than  Mr.  Carl  Englewood;  and  I  am 
proud  to  move,  Mr.  President,  that  he  be  declared 
our  nominee  for  representative  in  the  State  Legisla- 
ture." 

"I  support  the  motion,"  a  chorus  of  voices  broke 
in,  amid  a  clapping  of  hands.  "Englewood  is  the 
man.  Question,  question." 

When  the  enthusiasm  had  subsided  somewhat  our 
friend  rose  slowly  to  his  feet,  to  be  greeted  with 
renewed  hand  clapping.  Englewood  had  taken  but 
little  part  in  the  discussion,  as  there  had  been  no 
question  as  to  the  undesirability  of  the  various  nomi- 
nees; but  now  he  was  facing  with  dread  a  duty 
forced  upon  him  by  friends  who  did  not  know  all 
that  they  demanded  of  him. 

"Gentlemen,"  he  said,  "I  would  be  less  or  more 
than  human,  if  I  were  not  proud  of  this  moment. 
Your  friendship,  your  trust,  your  respect,  they  are 
more  than  gratifying;  and  yet  you  are  asking  of  me 
that  which  I  am  very  loth  to  grant.  I  have  not  in 
the  past  given  you  my  reasons  for  declining  office; 
and  even  now  it  is  hard  to  do  so.  Yet  it  is  true  that 
we  must  have  a  good  candidate  to  oppose  the  nomi- 
nees now  before  the  people.  While  it  is  possible  that 
I  would  be,  with  your  support,  a  strong  candidate; 
yet  there  is  that  which  might  cause  me  to  be  weaker 
than  you  know.  It  is  an  old  sore  with  me,  and  one 
that  I  do  not  wish  to  make  public,  unnecessarily.  I 
wish,  therefore,  with  your  permission,  to  have  a  few 
moments'  private  conversation  with  the  three  gentle- 
men who  have  last  spoken;  and  if  they  are  then  still 
of  the  opinion  that  I  am  the  most  available  candidate, 
I  will  sacrifice  my  own  inclination  and  stand  for  the 
office." 

The  four  gentlemen  withdrawing  to  a  private  of- 


352  UNCLE  CARL 

fice,  the  remaining  members  entered  into  an  informal 
discussion  of  the  coming  campaign,  until  called  to 
order  a  half  hour  later  by  the  president,  who  ad- 
dressed them  as  follows: 

"Gentlemen,  the  disclosures  made  to  us  by  Mr. 
Englewood  are  such  as  we  cannot  make  public  with- 
out subjecting  him  to  gross  misconceptions  and 
possible  scandal.  We  beg  leave  to  report  that  they 
in  no  way  alter  our  opinion  of  him  as  a  man  of 
honor;  indeed,  we  are  more  than  ever  proud  to  call 
him  'friend.'  Yet,  it  is  undeniable  that,  should  what 
he  has  told  us  become  known  to  the  opposition,  it 
might  be  handled  in  such  a  way  as  to  not  only  lose 
us  votes,  but  also  would  be  a  source  of  great  sorrow 
to  the  one  who  so  reluctantly,  and  only  for  duty's 
sake,  places  his  candidacy  in  our  hands  to  accept  or 
reject  at  our  pleasure.  For  his  sake,  I  wish  that  it 
were  possible  for  us  to  find  another  available  man 
for  the  office;  but  for  the  sake  of  our  cause  I;  with 
the  hearty  acquiescence  of  Messrs.  Howe  and  Davis, 
recommend  the  acceptance  of  Mr.  Englewood's  sac- 
rifice. The  question  is  now  before  you  for  discus- 
sion." 

"Mr.  President,"  said  Englewood,  "before  this 
matter  is  further  discussed,  I  wish  to  make  a  brief 
statement.  While  I  fully  appreciate,  and  heartily 
thank  you  all  for  the  esteem  manifested  for  me  by 
even  mentioning  my  name  in  connection  with  this 
honorable  office,  I  am  yet  in  hopes  that  some  other 
man  may  be  found  to  carry  our  colors  to  victory. 
Yet,  if  it  be  the  will  of  this  Federation  that  I  stand 
for  the  office,  I  bow  to  that  will,  but  under  the  fol- 
lowing conditions  only.  I  am  one  of  those  old- 
fashioned  cranks  who  believe  that  the  office  should 
seek  the  man.  If  I  am  placed  in  nomination,  I  wish 


UNCLE  CARL  353 

it  to  be  understood  distinctly  that  I  shall  not  lift  my 
hand,  nor  use  my  influence  in  any  way,  directly  or 
indirectly,  to  compass  my  election.  I  shall  even  de- 
cline to  take  active  part  in  the  work  of  this  organiza- 
tion during  the  campaign;  for  the  reason  that  I,  as 
a  nominee,  am  an  interested  party  in  the  success 
or  failure  of  the  work.  It  must  be  remembered,  too, 
that  I  have  never  had  experience,  nor  been  in  close 
touch  with  the  duties  of  the  office  now  under  discus- 
sion, and  that,  though  if  it  be  the  people's  will  that  I 
serve,  I  should  do  so  to  the  best  of  my  ability,  it 
seems  to  me  very  unwise  to  put  such  an  inexperienced 
man  as  myself  in  so  important  a  position.  I  thank 
you  again  most  earnestly,  and  still  hope  that  you  will 
find  another  available  man  for  the  position." 

As  Englewood  sat  down,  Mr.  Bullard,  an  old 
farmer-politician,  rose. 

"Mr.  President,"  he  said,  "I  don't  reckon  as  we 
keer  specially  fer  Mr.  Englewood's  active  work  in 
this  campaign.  I'm  sure  that  we  kin  git  along  purty 
well  without  his  influence,  except  as  his  name  is  an 
influence  for  honesty  and  general  all-around  good- 
ness, by  gum !  His  friends  are  goin'  to  do  the  work 
fer  him  and  he's  got  thousands  of  'em  in  this  here 
county.  I  don't  think  that  we  want  to  discuss  this 
question  any  more.  We've  all  of  us  got  our  minds 
made  up;  and  they're  made  up  to  vote  for  honest 
Carl  Englewood,  fer  representative;  and  I  call,  Mr. 
President,  fer  the  question."  ' 

"Question,  question,"  came  a  chorus  of  voices  as 
the  old  fellow  sat  down;    and  the  next  minute,  mid 
rousing  cheers,  our  friend  was  declared  the  choice  of 
the  Federation  for  State  Representative. 
23 


354  UNCLE  CARL 

The  following  Sunday,  Courtright  and  Engle- 
wood  were  strolling  along  the  beach  near  the  former's 
summer  home.  Their  conversation  had  taken  a  po- 
litical turn,  and  the  local  struggle  was  under  consid- 
eration. 

"The  slates  of  the  machine  have  been  made  up 
unusually  early  this  year,"  Englewood  had  said,  "and 
there  will  be  a  good  ten  weeks  for  field  work,  as  the 
conventions,  though  not  yet  called  except  on  repre- 
sentative, will  undoubtedly  ratify  the  lists  as  given  to 
them  by  their  party  leaders.  The  Federation  will 
take  no  official  action,  of  course,  until  after  the  nomi- 
nations have  been  made  in  regular  form,  but  mean- 
while we  have  enough  to  keep  our  hands  full." 

"I  am  mighty  glad,"  the  lawyer  said,  "that  you 
have  at  last  consented  to  stand  for  office;  for  I 
think  that  you  are  especially  fitted,  both  in  character 
and  ability,  for  public  affairs.  But,  as  usual,  I  learn 
that  your  'finickiness'  handicaps  you  at  the  start.  I 
understand  that  you  decline  to  take  any  active  part 
in  the  campaign ;  and  to  my  way  of  thinking  that  is 
a  mistake." 

"Perhaps  I  am  finicky,"  replied  Englewood;  "but 
as  I  explained  to  the  Federation,  before  my  nomina- 
tion, I  believe  that  the  office  should  seek  the  man, 
not  man  the  office." 

"And  I  don't  think  that  you  are  entirely  right," 
said  Courtright.  "In  the  first  place,  I  think  that  it 
is  a  laudable  ambition  for  a  man  to  seek  the  suffrage 
of  his  fellows  to  place  him  in  an  honorable  office.  An 
ambition  is  unworthy  only  when  one  desires  the 
office  for  the  purpose  of  carrying  out  unworthy  pro- 
jects. And  I  also  think  that  when  one  feels  the  need 
of  a  strong,  able  man  to  carry  out  a  given  principle  or 
measure  for  the  public  welfare,  and  believes  that  he 


UNCLE  CARL  355 

himself  could  worthily  carry  on  the  work,  it  becomes 
his  duty — a  duty  to  the  people — to  seek  the  office." 

"I  quite  agree  with  you,"  replied  Englewood.  "A 
great  reformer  should,  if  he  feels  himself  called,  do 
all  that  he  can  toward  compassing  the  great  results. 
If  fitted  to  lead,  he  should  seek  leadership  for  him- 
self. If  he  feels  that  he  can  accomplish  the  best  re- 
sults in  an  office  of  public  trust,  then  he  should  seek 
the  office.  But  in  ordinary  public  affairs  it  is  not  re- 
formers, but  honest  servants  that  are  needed.  In 
the  office  for  which  I  have  been  nominated  it  is  not 
a  reformer  that  is  needed;  but  an  honest  and  intelli- 
gent man,  who  will  earnestly  assist  in  the  work  of 
perpetuating  good  government.  The  people  know 
this,  are  alive  to  the  issues,  and  I  hold  that  the  people 
should  select  their  servant;  in  other  words,  the  office 
seek  the  man.  I  have  no  special  projects  in  view;  I 
do  not  see  that  there  is  any  great  special  mission  for 
our  next  representative,  and  therefore  I  am  averse  to 
going  before  the  public  as  an  applicant  for  the  office 
with  only  the  plea,  'We  want  an  honest  man  at  Lan- 
sing and  I  am  an  honest  man,  therefore  send  me 
there.'  If,  however,  the  people,  believing  that  I  am 
the  one  best  fitted  for  the  position,  if,  without  my 
influence  either  for  or  against  any  of  the  nominees, 
the  people  say,  'You  are  our  choice  for  this  office,  go 
and  serve  us,  then  it  becomes  my  duty  as  a  citizen 
to  do  my  share,  to  honestly  and  to  tne  best  of  my 
ability  serve  them." 

"Doubtless  you  are  right  in  your  view,  as  an  ideal 
principle,"  said  Courtright,  "but  it  is  not  the  custom 
in  modern  politics.  And  where  there  are  so  many 
unworthy  men  seeking  an  opportunity  to  grab  from 
the  public  treasury;  where  there  are  so  many  willing 
tools  to  serve  the  ends  of  selfish  corporations,  and 


356  UNCLE  CARL 

who  seek  public  office  for  that  purpose,  I  think  that 
when  one  who  knows  himself  to  be  able  and  honest 
consents  to  stand  for  election,  he  should  use  every 
honorable  means  to  win;  and  this  is  especially  true 
when  he  knows  that  the  chief  opposition  candidate 
should  by  rights  be  behind  the  bars." 

"From  your  point  of  view  you  are  right,"  replied 
Englewood.  "But  laying  my  prejudices  and  personal 
desires  aside  for  the  moment  and  viewing  the  case 
only  in  the  light  of  policy,  let  me  ask  you  if,  by  ac- 
tively championing  the  cause  of  what  the  opposition 
calls  the  'Immaculates'  with  the  necessarily  implied 
charge  that  the  opposition  candidate  is  not  without 
stain,  I  should  pose  as  the  only  honest  candidate  for 
this  office, — and  that  is  really  the  only  issue  in  this 
campaign, — and  later,  my  own  past  record,  with 
what  you  know  it  includes,  should  be  made  public, 
would  not  my  active  work  do  more  harm  than  good 
in  the  campaign?  And  let  me  add,  that  I  believe  that 
my  past  will  be  thoroughly  investigated  and  made 
the  most  of  by  my  opponents." 

"Poor  fellow !"  said  Courtright.  "It  is  going  to 
be  a  bitter  pill  for  you  whether  you  win  or  lose,  isn't 
it!  Well,  perhaps  you  are  right.  At  any  rate  you 
will  have  your  own  way.  But  suppose  that  trouble 
should  come  up,  you  can  clear  that  up  all  right. 
Surely  you  would  be  justified  in  telling  the  whole 
truth  under  the  circumstances." 

"Justified  or  not  in  the  eyes  of  others,"  said  Engle- 
wood, "I  shall  not  speak;  for  as  I  have  told  you 
before,  another's  reputation  would  be  at  stake,  and 
I  have  promised  to  shield  that  reputation." 

"But  surely,"  urged  Courtright,  "that  person,  if 
worthy  of  your  sacrifice,  would  release  you  from 
such  a  promise  under  the  circumstances." 


UNCLE  CARL  357 

"I  shall  not  ask  it,"  said  Englewood,  "as  Scott 
said,*  'In  what  consists  the  merit  of  our  truth,  if  we 
observe  not  our  plighted  word  when  we  have  prom- 
ised, to  our  hurt.'  No,  no,  my  dear  friend.  This  will 
be  but  another  burden  for  me  to  carry,  and  I  assume  it 
with  my  eyes  open.  I  have  explained  the  situation 
just  as  you  know  it,  but  no  further,  to  the  leaders  of 
our  Federation.  In  their  judgment  I  am  the  most 
available  candidate  in  spite  of  it;  and  they  know  just 
what  to  expect.  And  so,  let  the  wheel  turn.  I  may 
be  bruised  but  shall  not  be  crushed;  and  so  long  as 
I  have  the  trust  of  you  and  your  family,  I  shall  pos- 
sess a  healing  balm  for  much  more  painful  sores  than 
this  one.  Suppose  we  join  the  rest  for  a  row  on  the 
lake." 

"You  are  a  wonderful  fellow,  Englewood,"  said 
the  lawyer.  "There  are  not  many  as  steadfast  as 
you,  when  it  comes  to  what  you  think  is  your  duty." 

"Oh,  yes,  there  are,"  said  Carl;  "the  world  is  full 
of  good  people  if  we  only  look  for  them ;  and  much 
heavier  burdens  than  I  carry  are  borne  more  cheer- 
fully than  mine  are  by  thousands  who  have  not  the 
compensation  that  I  have  in  the  true  friendships  of 
such  as  you  and  yours.  Heigh,  ho  I  it  won't  be  long 
now  before  you  kind  people  will  be  going  back  to  the 
big  city.  I  shall  miss  these  evenings,  I  can  tell  you. 
I  shall  feel  mighty  lonely  when  you  are  all  gone." 

"Whenever  such  a  fit  comes  over  you,  pack  up 
your  grip  and  come  over  to  us  for  a  little  visit,"  said 
Courtright.  "We  shall  be  glad  to  give  you  a  'shake- 
down' in  the  stable  or  the  chicken-house  any  old 
time." 

"Indeed,  I  should  like  to,"  returned  Carl;    "but  I 

*  Sir  Walter  Scott,  Woodstock,  Ch.  V. 


358  UNCLE  CARL 

am  much  a  man  of  habit,  and  it  is  not  easy  for  me  to 
break  into  my  routine." 

"You  have  no  business  to  get  into  a  rut  that  you 
can't  turn  out  of  easily,"  said  the  lawyer.  "Did  it 
never  strike  you  that,  if  your  friends  like  you  and 
want  you,  you  deprive  them  of  a  pleasure  as  well  as 
yourself  by  not  yielding  to  their  wishes  occasionally? 
Come  now;  promise  me  that  you  will  visit  us  this 
fall." 

"Of  course  you  know  more  about  my  business  and 
what  I  can  do  better  than  I  do  myself,"  retorted 
Englewood.  "And  since  you  say  so,  I  suppose  I'll 
have  to  come.  So  I — yes — I  promise  to  run  over 
this  fall,  if  possible." 


CHAPTER  XXXI 

It  is  not  our  purpose  to  dwell  in  detail  upon  the 
political  campaign  waged  that  fall.  It  was  carried 
on  in  the  usual  manner  of  modern  political  warfare. 
There  were  the  same  hob-nobbings  of  professional 
politicians,  and  wire-pullers,  and  ward  heelers.  The 
same  torch-light  processions,  and  band-playing,  and 
spell-binding.  The  same  acrimonious  literature  and 
exaggerated  rumors  calculated  to  injure  the  oppo- 
sition candidates.  The  Civic  Federation,  however, 
waged  a  dignified  battle  for  their  choice  of  the  va- 
rious candidates  in  the  field,  without  regard  to  party 
lines;  and  their  influence  was  potent  beyond  all  the 
forces  of  the  opposition. 

The  heat  of  the  contest  was  around  the  nominees 
for  representative.  As  had  been  foreseen  by  the 
Federation,  the  machine  politicians,  united  by  the 
capitalistic  interests,  were  waging  a  strong  battle. 
Slanderous  innuendoes,  sneers,  and  ridicule  were 
hurled  without  stint  at  the  candidate  of  the  "Im- 
maculates";  but  still  they  controlled  a  strong  fol- 
lowing, and  unless  an — to  them — unexpected  devel- 
opment should  arouse  distrust,  there  was  good  ground 
to  hope  for  the  victory  of  their  candidate.  Engle- 
wood,  though  steadfastly  refusing  to  take  active  part 
in  the  campaign  work,  kept  in  constant  touch  with 
affairs,  anticipating  with  dread  the  time  when  the 
cheery  greeting  of  his  fellows  should  become  sub- 
dued; the  clear  eyes  of  friendship  be  clouded  with 
suspicion  at  accusations  that  those  who  trusted  him 
could  not,  while  he  would  not,  refute.  For  he  had 
no  doubt  that  the  relentless  enmity  of  Stanhope  would 


360  UNCLE  CARL 

sooner  or  later  lead  him  to  a  record  of  the  past  that, 
without  explanation  on  his  part,  would  be  of  itself 
sufficient  ground  for  distrust ;  and  under  the  manipu- 
lation of  experienced  politicians  would  appear  blackly 
criminal.  Still,  the  election  was  only  a  fortnight  off, 
and  the  tension  of  suspense  which  had  become  al- 
most painful  was  relaxing  under  the  hope  that,  per- 
haps, his  fears  were  after  all  unfounded. 

It  was  at  this  time  that  Englewood  received  an 
urgent  request  from  Courtright  to  visit  him  for  two 
or  three  days.  "I  have  some  news;  sad,  but  still  of 
considerable  moment  to  you,"  he  had  written;  "and 
as  engagements  here  will  not  permit  me  to  go  over 
there,  suppose  you  come  here."  And  Carl  resolved 
to  make  the  visit;  feeling  that  neither  his  presence 
nor  absence  would  alter  the  results  of  the  political 
battle.  The  day  following,  therefore,  he  reached 
Chicago,  preceded  by  a  telegram  announcing  his 
coming;  intending,  as  Courtright's  family  were  once 
more  settled  in  their  surburban  home,  to  remain  there 
for  perhaps  four  or  five  days. 

The  evening  of  his  departure  there  was  a  special 
meeting  of  the  committee  having  in  charge  Stan- 
hope's campaign,  at  which  the  latter  was  present. 
Indeed,  it  was  at  his  request  that  the  meeting  was 
called.  Various  reports  had  been  made  by  lesser  po- 
litical lights  so  optimistically  colored  that,  though  the 
committee  did  not  forget  that  the  crisis  of  the  battle 
was  yet  in  the  future,  confidence  in  the  final  result 
was  felt  by  all.  After  receiving  reports,  the  com- 
mittee held  a  private  session,  at  which  Stanhope,  with 
much  elation,  divulged  knowledge  that,  as  he  ex- 
pressed it,  was  a  "clincher  that  would  put  that  cursed 
Englewood  in  such  a  position  that  he  wouldn't  dare 
to  show  his  head  again  in  this  town." 


UNCLE  CARL  361 

"In  fact,"  continued  that  worthy,  "I  think  that  the 
whelp  'smells  a  mouse'  already.  I  understand  that 
he  took  the  boat  to-night  for  Chicago;  and  when  he 
learns  that  the  cat  is  out  of  the  bag  it  isn't  likely  that 
he  will  turn  up  here  again." 

"Do  you  know,"  said  one  of  the  members,  "I  don't 
exactly  like  to  hear  Englewood  spoken  of  as  'a  whelp.' 
To  my  mind,  he  is  an  upright  gentleman.  To  be 
sure,  in  politics  we  must  not  be  too  scrupulous,  if  we 
want  to  win;  but  at  the  same  time,  it  isn't  necessary 
to  indulge  in  vituperation  here." 

"Isn't,  hey!"  retorted  Stanhope.  "I  think  that 
you'll  change  your  tune  when  you  know  what  I  do. 
I  have  always  thought  that  his  sanctimoniousness 
was  only  skin  deep,  but  now  I  know  it."  He  then 
proceeded  to  give  a  detailed  statement  of  an  event 
touching  Englewood's  honor,  that  he  had  learned 
from  one  who  had  known  Carl  some  years  before. 
"He  is  positive  as  to  his  facts,"  said  Stanhope,  "but 
we  must,  of  course,  have  proof.  And  the  proof,  so 
my  informant  tells  me,  is  a  matter  of  court  record  in 

Y County.  The  chief  reason  I  wanted  the 

meeting  to-night  was,  that  we  should  send  a  man  at 
once  to  look  up  this  record.  If  it  is  as  I  have  been 
told,  Englewood  will  be  defeated  easily.  Now  what 
do  you  think  of  Mr.  Englewood  as  a  first-class 
whelp?"  he  asked,  turning  to  the  member  who  had 
objected  to  the  term. 

"I  am  sorry,  very  sorry,"  said  the  member,  "to 
learn  this  of  Mr.  Englewood.  I  have  always  thought 
him  to  be  an  exceptionally  upright  man.  Though, 
of  course,  not  the  man  who  will  serve  our  interests  at 
Lansing.  In  fact,  it  is  chiefly  because  of  his  upright- 
ness that  we  prefer  you  there.  I  confess  that  I  hope 
that  the  record  will  not  show  him  to  be  as  you  have 


362  UNCLE  CARL 

represented.  But  if  it  does,  there  is  no  question  but 
that  it  will  insure  his  defeat." 

"My,  oh  my !"  said  another  member.  "Won't  that 
be  a  rich  joke  on  the  'Immaculates.'  To  find  their 
own  candidate  to  be  as  off-colored  as  our  own  dickey- 
bird,  Stanhope." 

"It  isn't  necessary  to  fling  slurs  at  me,  sir,"  said 
Stanhope,  coloring.  "Because  Englewood  can  be 
proved  a  cur  it  does  not  follow  that  the  same  term 
can  be  used  of  me.  There  is  no  court  record  against 
my  name." 

"No,  perhaps  not,"  retorted  the  last  speaker.  "But 
there  ought  to  be  a  dozen.  Black  ones,  too." 

"Gentlemen,  gentlemen,"  said  the  chairman,  as 
Stanhope  half  rose,  with  clenched  fist,  "this  is  neither 
the  time  nor  place  for  quarrels.  We  have  now  to 
discuss  matters  more  important  than  Stanhope's 
moral  character.  Let  us  proceed  to  business." 

With  that  they  took  up  matters  of  detail  connected 
with  the  campaign;  amongst  others  designating  one 
of  their  number  to  investigate  the  charge  brought 
against  Mr.  Englewood.  While  the  political  game 
is  being  played,  let  us  rest  for  a  few  days  in  the 
cheery  home  of  Mr.  Courtright,  where  our  friends 
drink  the  "wine  of  existence."5 

Upon  his  arrival  in  Chicago,  Englewood  went  at 
once  to  Courtright's  office,  to  meet  with  a  greeting 
that  he  had  learned  to  consider  more  earnest  and 
heartfelt  in  proportion  to  the  degree  of  ridiculous 
bantering  used  to  express  it. 

"You  miserable  old  sinner,"  the  lawyer  said,  as 
with  beaming  face  he  shook  hands  with  Carl,  "you 
couldn't  keep  away,  could  you?  If  I  ever  want  you, 

*  Friendship  is  the  wine  of  existence,  but  love  is  the  dram  drink- 
ing.— E.  Bulwer. 


UNCLE  CARL  363 

I  only  have  to  make  a  mysterious  appeal  to  your  self- 
interest  and  you  are  sure  to  appear." 

"Quite  mistaken,  quite  mistaken,  Courtright,"  re- 
torted Englewood.  "I  came  over  only  to  offer  my 
sympathy  to  your  wife,  who  is  to  soon  meet  with 
such  a  great  loss." 

"My  wife,  Englewood,"  said  Courtright,  becom- 
ing at  once  serious.  "Why,  there  is  nothing  the  mat- 
ter there.  What  do  you  mean?  A  great  loss  com- 
ing to  her?" 

"Certainly,"  said  Carl;  "or  at  least  some  would 
consider  it  a  loss,  though  to  me  it  would  seem  to  be 
a  decided  gain." 

"What  is  it?  Explain  yourself."  The  lawyer  was 
becoming  somewhat  uneasy. 

"Only  that  you  are  going  to  hang  one  of  these 
days,  if  you  don't  keep  a  more  civil  tongue  in  your 
head,"  laughed  Carl.  "But,  really,  old  friend,  it 
does  seem  good  to1  be  here,  though  it  is  not  six  weeks 
since  you  moved  your  family  back.  How  are  they 
all?" 

"All  well,"  answered  Courtright,  "and  as  usual 
counting  on  seeing  you.  I  promised  them  when  your 
telegram  came  that  I  would  send  you  right  up  there 
as  soon  as  I  got  through  with  you." 

"That's  good,  too,"  said  Carl.  "Hurry  up  and 
get  through  with  me." 

"Oh,  I  suppose  you  are  in  a  hurry;  but  it's  busi- 
ness that  I  have  with  you,"  said  Courtright. 

"Well,  why  shouldn't  I  feel  drawn  by  the  Crea- 
tor's last  and  best  work,"  said  Carl.  "There  is 
nothing  that  I  know  of  better  worth  following  than 
petticoats  if  they  contain  such  perfection  as  can  be 
found  in  your  home.  But,  I'm  all  ready  for  business. 


364  UNCLE  CARL 

What  is  it?  Your  letter  spoke  of  'sad  but  important 
news.'  " 

"Have  a  cigar,  Englewood,"  said  Courtright,  ex- 
tending his  case.  And  lighting  one  himself,  the  two 
friends  sat  down  while  the  lawyer  explained  the  im- 
port of  his  message. 

"We  have  had  bad  news  from  our  mine,"  he  said. 
"I  have  not  had  positive  details  of  the  cause  of  the 
accident,  but  gather  that  the  engineer  at  the  hoist 
became  careless.  At  any  rate,  the  hoisting  engine 
got  away  from  him  while  raising  a  carload  of  ore. 
The  car  was  jerked  up  to  the  top  of  the  shaft-house, 
where  the  cable  broke,  letting  it  fall  to  the  floor. 
The  engine  whipped  the  cable  about,  doing  great 
damage  to  itself,  and  killing  the  engineer  outright. 
At  the  same  time  a  piece  of  rock  from  the  car  was 
thrown  out  by  the  impact  with  the  roof,  and  striking 
Stuart  injured  him  so  severely  that  he  died  the  next 
day.  There  I  you  have  the  worst  of  it  all  in  a  lump." 

"Oh,  I'm  so  sorry!"  exclaimed  Carl.  "Poor 
Stuart.  Do  you  know  I  really  liked  that  man  in 
spite  of  his  yielding  to  temptation.  I  believe  that  he 
had  the  making  of  a  good  citizen." 

"And  so  he  was,  and  so  he  was,"  the  lawyer  re- 
plied. "He  was  a  man  in  every  sense  of  the  word 
so  far  as  I  can  gather.  Honest,  capable,  and  faithful 
to  our  interests.  He  had  one  shortcoming,  though. 
He  insisted  to  the  day  of  his  death  that  you,  you 
lazy  chump,  made  him  a  man." 

"Well,  let  that  pass,"  said  Carl;  "I  am  deeply 
grieved  at  his  end.  But  where  is  it  otherwise  of 
special  importance  to  me?" 

"In  this,"  said  Courtright.  "I  have  received  from 
the  Probate  office  at  Rock  Gulch,  a  copy  of  Stuart's 
will,  executed  some  six  months  ago.  In  this  will  he 


UNCLE  CARL  365 

bequeaths  to  one  Carl  Englewood  all  of  his  one-third 
interest  in  the  Pheasant  mine.  That  I  think  is  of 
some  little  importance,  as  the  mine  was  capitalized 
at  a  million  and  a  half.  The  first  dividends,  as  I 
have  been  advised,  will  be  paid  next  January,  at 
which  time  two  per  cent  on  the  capital  stock  will  be 
distributed.  That  means  the  neat  little  sum  of  ten 
thousand  dollars  as  your  share.  Of  a  little  import- 
ance to  you,  old  miser,  don't  you  think?" 

"I'm  amazed,  Courtright,"  said  Englewood. 
"There  must  be  some  mistake.  I  had  no  claim  what- 
ever on  Mr.  Stuart.  Why !  I  knew  him  only  two  or 
three  weeks;  and  all  that  I  ever  did  for  him  was  to 
persuade  Erickson  to  let  him  have  his  rights,  notwith- 
standing his  attempt  at  trickery." 

"I  don't  know  anything  about  that,"  said  Court- 
right;  "I  am  only  giving  you  the  facts  that  I  do 
know  about.  But  perhaps  this  letter  that  came  with 
the  copy  of  the  will  may  explain  it  more  fully.  It 
is  addressed  to  you,  and  I  am  informed,  in  my  own 
letter  of  instructions,  that  Stuart  himself  wrote  it  a 
few  hours  before  he  died."  He  then  handed  a 
sealed  envelope  to  Carl,  who  read  the  following  en- 
closure : 

"October  18,  18- 
"Mr.  Carl  Englewood. 

"Mv  FRIEND:  The  doctor  tells  me  that  I  can  live 
only  a  few  hours,  and  before  my  lamp  goes  out  I  want 
to  say  a  few  words  to  you.  I  had  hoped  that  I  might 
live  to  prove  to  you  that  I  could  be  an  honest,  even 
a  good  man,  but  Fate  has  ordered  otherwise.  But 
I  want  to  say  to  you,  Mr.  Englewood,  that  but  for 
you,  I  would  now  be  a  criminal,  perhaps  behind  the 
bars.  It  was  not  only  that  you  saved  me  my  share 


366  UNCLE  CARL 

in  the  mine,  that  was  justly  forfeited,  but  that  your 
influence  as  a  man  shamed  the  evil  and  roused  to 
action  the  good  that  was  in  me.  And  from  that  day 
to  this  I  can,  on  this  my  death-bed,  honestly  say  that 
I  have  been  true  and  faithful,  not  only  to  those  who 
entrusted  their  business  interests  to  my  care,  but  true 
to  my  conscience  as  well.  So  that,  to-day,  I  am  be- 
fore all  people  a  man  of  honor.  And  this  is  not 
bragging;  I  could  not  do  that  with  the  shadow  of 
death  so  near  me.  But  all  that  I  have  been  in  the 
last  three  years,  all  that  I  hope  to  be  in  the  mysterious 
future,  I  owe  to  you ;  and  I  pray  to  the  Great  Ruler 
to  ever  bless  and  keep  you — the  kindliest  and  best 
man  it  has  ever  been  my  privilege  to  know. 

"I  have  in  my  will  left  to  you  all  of  my  interest 
in  the  Pheasant  mine.  I  beg  of  you  to  accept  and 
use  it  as  seems  best  to  you,  for  I  know  that  in  your 
hands  naught  but  good  will  come  of  it.  In  giving 
this  to  you,  I  would  assure  you  that  I  do  not  deprive 
others  of  anything  justly  their  due.  My  wife  was 
laid  away  some  years  ago;  and  my  only  child,  a 
daughter,  is  happily  married  to  a  man  of  wealth  and 
honor.  I  have  no  dependents,  and  hope  that  you 
will  not  scruple  to  accept  this  in  token  of  my  trust 
and  gratitude. 

"And  now,  good-by.  May  God  bless  you  in  your 
noble  life. 

"JAMES  STUART." 

Slowly  Englewood  refolded  and  placed  the  letter 
in  his  pocket.  "I  am  sorry,  Courtright,"  he  said  in 
answer  to  the  lawyer's  inquiring  look,  "that  I  cannot 
show  you  this  letter.  It  contains  some  rather  too 
broad  compliments.  Poor  Stuart;  it  is  a  pity  he  could 
not  have  lived  to  show  the  world  how  worthy  a  man 


UNCLE  CARL  367 

he  was.  In  this  letter,  however,  he  confirms  the  con- 
tents of  the  will,  and  I  shall  make  such  use  of  it  as 
he  expected,  so  far  as  I  am  able.  But,  now  suppose 
we  go  out  to  your  home,  or  are  you  too  busy  to  go 
now?" 

"Sorry;  but  you'll  have  to  make  that  trip  by  your 
lonely,"  said  Courtright.  "I  have  a  case  on  call 
this  afternoon.  I'd  ask  you  to  go  to  court  with  me 
if  it  were  not  a  dry  chancery  case;  but  then  I  know 
that  you  are  anxious  to  get  in  touch  with  the  petti- 
coats as  quick  as  you  can,  anyway,  so  be  off  with 
you." 

"Oh,  of  course,  I'm  anxious,"  returned  Carl. 
"You  don't  suppose  that — " 

"Oh,  shut  up;  get  out;  don't  bother  me ;  scoot!" 
said  Courtright  with  a  mock  frown.  "My  wife 
would  box  my  ears  good  if  I  kept  you  here  any 
longer  anyway.  Tell  her  I'll  be  home  as  early  as 
possible.  Come  now,  vamoose !"  and  he  wheeled  to 
his  desk,  as  with  a  laugh  Englewood  left  the  office. 

It  is  needless  for  us  to  reaffirm  that  the  welcome 
that  Englewood  received  was  such  as  made  him  feel 
at  home  in  his  friend's  dwelling;  nor  need  we  de- 
scribe his  occupations  there.  The  days  were  passed 
in  restful  recreations ;  and  though  he  passed  an  hour 
or  so  each  day  with  his  mail,  keeping  informed  as  to 
the  progress  of  the  political  contest  at  Kaloma,  he 
was  able  otherwise  to  forget  for  a  little  time  that 
there  were  any  other  influences  in  the  world  than  such 
as  abounded  in  this  little  hive  of  affection  and  pure 
ambitions. 

Our  history  has  grown  to  greater  length,  we  have 
given  rather  more  attention  to  the  details  of  this 
man's  life  than  was  our  intention  in  the  beginning; 
and  though  there  are  a  thousand  things  that  we  would 


368  UNCLE  CARL 

like  to  tell,  we  will  hasten  on  to  the  more  salient  inci- 
dents; believing  that  our  readers  will  understand 
better  than  we  can  describe,  the  atmosphere  of  friend- 
ship and  thoughtful  care  that  made  of  this  an  all  but 
ideal  home. 

It  was  the  third  evening  of  Englewood's  visit  that 
the  family  were  seated  in  the  living-room,  awaiting 
the  arrival  of  Courtright  from  the  city.  He  was 
later  than  usual,  and  when  he  did  arrive  it  was  a 
hasty  greeting  he  gave  them  all,  even  cutting  short  his 
usual  romp  with  Beatrice. 

"Had  rather  a  hard  day  to-day,"  he  said,  "and 
I'm  rather  out  of  sorts.  Guess  I'll  go  clean  up  and 
then  I'll  feel  better,"  and  he  walked  into  the  hall. 
At  the  foot  of  the  stairway  he  stopped  and  called 
back  to  Englewood,  who  was  sitting  by  the  grate: 

"Oh,  say,  you  old  reprobate,  come  on  up  to  my 
room  while  I  slick  up  a  bit.  I've  some  news  for 
you." 

As  Carl  followed  him  into  his  dressing-room, 
Courtright  closed  the  door,  and  turning,  grasped  his 
friend's  hand  in  a  firm  clasp,  saying: 

"Englewood,  you  dear  old  fellow,  it's  bad  news  I 
have  for  you.  What  you  feared  has  come,  and  it's 
in  awful  shape  too.  I  got  the  papers  just  as  I  was 
closing  the  office.  I  thought  that  you  would  want  to 
know  the  worst  before  my  people  learn  of  it,  and  so 
I  brought  them  up  here." 

Englewood's  face  turned  a  shade  paler  as  Court- 
right  was  speaking;  and  his  lips  were  firmly  com- 
pressed, while  his  eyes  had  a  mournful,  hunted  ex- 
pression. He  turned  and  paced  the  room  nervously 
for  two  or  three  minutes  as  if  to  gain  more  perfect 
mastery  of  himself,  and  then,  stopping  abruptly, 
reached  for  the  newspaper  that  the  lawyer  extended. 


UNCLE  CARL  369 

He  read  the  scathing  article  it  contained  with  ap- 
parent calmness,  though  his  clenched  hands  as  he  laid 
it  down  showed  the  strain  under  which  he  labored. 

"Courtright,"  he  asked  in  a  low  voice — "your 
wife !  Does  she  know  of  this  blot  in  my  life?" 

"She  knows  just  as  much  as  I  know,  old  boy,"  was 
the  reply. 

"And  she  trusts  me  in  spite  of  it?"  asked  Carl. 

"Can  you  ask  it,  Englewood?  She  has  known  it 
for  years.  Hasn't  she  proved  her  faith?"  answered 
Courtright. 

"Bless  her  pure  heart;  yes!"  said  Englewood. 
"But,  oh,  this  is  awful.  And  the  children,  Court- 
right,  and  Hattie  Braton,  do  they  know?" 

"No,"  answered  his  friend,  "and  they  need  not 
know  yet,  or  ever,  if  you  prefer  it." 

"Oh,  they  must  know,"  said  Englewood.  "I  had 
hoped  that  the  past  might  be  buried.  But  since  it 
has  come  up  again,  I  cannot  sail  under  false  colors. 
Yes,  let  the  children  know." 

"But,  Englewood,  old  friend,"  pleaded  Courtright, 
"tell  me  the  whole  truth.  Let  us  set  you  right  before 
the  world.  I  know  that  you  hold  that  back  that 
would  make  your  record  spotless." 

But  Englewood  straightened  up,  and  raised  his 
head  with  the  imperious  haughtiness  of  a  king. 
"Once  for  all,  Courtright,  No!"  he  said.  "Your 
trust  is  a  precious  thing  to  me.  It  soothes  the  sore 
that  has  been  so  harshly  reopened;  but  something 
much  more  precious  to  me  than  your  trust,  and  the 
trust  and  affection  of  your  family,  is  my  honor.  My 
word  has  been  passed  and  I  shall  not  break  it.  But, 
my  dear  friend,"  and  the  haughtiness  vanished, 
"something  I  would  ask.  Let  nothing  be  said  about 
24 


370  UNCLE  CARL 

this  until  after  supper;  and  then  I  wish  that,  when 
the  children  have  gone  up-stairs,  I  might  myself  show 
Hattie  the  paper.  I  want  to  see  how  she  takes  it. 
Of  course  you  may  tell  your  wife  first  if  you  choose, 
but  let  nothing  be  said  to  the  little  girl." 

"Of  course,  anything  you  wish,"  said  Courtright. 
"But,  really,  don't  you  think  it  a  little  hard  on  her 
to  take  her  unawares?" 

"Perhaps  so,"  said  Carl;  "but  somehow  I  want  to 
see  her  eyes  when  she  first  knows.  Her  trust,  in  spite 
of  this  blot,  will  mean  more  to  me  than  you  know; 
and  her  distrust  would — would — I — " 

"Englewood!"  exclaimed  Courtright,  and  he  again 
took  his  hand,  while  his  eyes  asked  the  question  that 
he  hesitated  to  put  in  words.  "Can  it  be  that — 
you—" 

"I'm  afraid  that  I  do,"  said  Carl.  "Old  fool  that 
I  am,"  and  he  folded  up  the  newspaper,  and  putting 
it  in  his  pocket  walked  out  of  the  room  and  down  the 
stairs. 

Courtright  returned  to  his  toilet,  muttering, 
"The  grandest,  truest  old  scoundrel  in  existence. 
But  it's  my  turn  now,  my  fine  fellow.  I  know  more 
than  you  think  I  do,  and  if  we  don't  bring  you  out  of 
this  whiter  than  ever,  my  name  isn't  Courtright,"  and 
he  chuckled  softly  as  he  arranged  his  tie. 

The  evening  meal  passed  much  as  usual  that  night, 
though  the  usual  social  conversation,  especially  of  the 
two  men,  lacked  its  customary  heartiness,  and  was 
rather  strained  and  spasmodic.  That  something  was 
amiss  was  felt  rather  than  seen  by  the  rest  of  the 
family,  and  it  was  with  a  sigh  of  relief  that,  an  un- 
usually dull  hour  after  the  meal  having  passed  and 
the  children  withdrawn  to  their  rooms,  Mrs.  Court- 
right  drew  the  chairs  around  the  grate,  and  seating 


UNCLE  CARL  371 

herself  said,  "Now  boys,  something  is  wrong;  let's 
talk  it  over." 

Hattie  arose  at  this,  saying,  "Perhaps  I  had  better 
go  too,  and  leave  you  old  friends  together."  But 
Carl  with  lifted  hand  protested.  "Please  be  seated, 
Miss  Braton,"  he  said.  "There  is  some  trouble,  but 
only  in  regard  to  myself,  and  I  want  you  to  know 
about  it  as  well  as  the  others.  Though  it  is  a  matter 
of  politics,  your  opinion  will  mean  much  to  me.  My 
opponents  have  hunted  up  my  past  record  and  pub- 
lished it.  I  wish  that  you  would  read  it  to  us  if  you 
will."  And  he  handed  the  girl  a  paper,  and  then 
leaning  back  in  his  chair  watched  her  wistfully  as  she 
unfolded  it,  and  reading  aloud  the  first  two  or  three 
words,  stopped  suddenly,  and  without  lifting  her  eyes 
hurriedly  scanned  the  following: 

THE   "IMMACULATES"  EXPOSED! 

ENGLEWOOD  A  THIEF.'!! 
THE  SANCTIMONIOUS  STANDARD  BEARER  CONVICTED  OF  CRIME! 

Convinced  that  the  opposition  were  endeavoring  to  foist  upon 
our  fair  county  an  unworthy  man  to  represent  our  people  at  Lansing, 
our  committee  has  been  at  some  pains  to  carefully  investigate  his 

past  life.  Learning  that  he  had  lived  some  months  at  X , 

our  agent  visited  that  place,  and  learned  that  this  hypocritical 
scoundrel  had,  after  systematically  robbing  his  employer  for  some 
weeks,  been  caught  in  the  act,  was  arrested,  tried  and  convicted  by 
a  jury  of  his  peers,  of  petty  thievery.  Indisputable  proof  of  this  was 

found  in  the  records  of  the  court  for  Y County,  Liber  H, 

page  876. 

[Here   followed    a   transcript   of  the  case.] 

And  this  is  the  man!  This  reptile!  Who  with  his  sanctimonious 
and  holier-than-thou  attitude,  has  been  posing  before  the  people  as 
a  saint.  Whom  the  corrupt  leaders  of  the  "Immaculates"  would 
have  the  good  people  of  this  district  vote  for  at  the  coming  election. 
With  what  object  in  view  may  be  easily  surmised. 

How  much  more  of  disgusting  criminality  on  the  part  of  this 
whited  sepulchre  might  be  disclosed  by  further  investigations  is 
problematical.  But  this  is  enough.  And  now  that  the  eyes  of  his 
duped  followers  are  opened,  we  are  much  mistaken  if  they  do  not 
manifest  their  hatred  of  his  kind  by  casting  their  votes  for  the 


372  UNCLE  CARL 

regular  Democratic  nominee.  While  we  make  no  claims  of  "saint- 
ship"  for  our  candidate, — acknowledging  that  Mr.  Stanhope  is 
human,  with  a  fair  share  of  human  frailties, — yet  we  claim  for  him, 
at  least  honesty.  Not  yet  has  he  fallen  so  low  as  to  be  convicted 
of  crime  in  a  court  of  justice.  We  look  for,  we  are  sure  of  the 
overwhelming  defeat  of  the  convicted  snake  who  would  pose  as  the 
representative  of  political  and  moral  purity. 

Hattie  sat  for  some  seconds  after  reading  this 
harsh  exposure — seconds  that  seemed  like  hours  to 
the  waiting  Englewood;  and  then  raised  her  eyes, 
brimming  with  tears,  to  his. 

"Oh,  you  poor  martyr!"  she  said.  "How  can 
they  print  such  abominable  lies;  and  why,  oh,  why, 
did  you  want  me  to  read  it?" 

"I  wanted  you  to  read  it,  Miss  Braton,"  said  Carl 
in  a  strained  voice,  and  looking  fixedly  at  her, 
"because  I  wanted  you  to  know  something  of  my  past, 
that  I  have  been  too  cowardly  to  tell.  I  want  you 
to  know  that  the  account  of  that  case  as  given  in  that 
paper  is  absolutely  true." 

"But  you  are  not  a  thief!"  said  Hattie." 

"The  jury  said  that  I  was,"  returned  Englewood. 

"But  I  say  that  you  are  not  a  thief!"  insisted  the 
girl. 

"Nevertheless,  I  stood  then,  and  I  stand  now  in  the 
sight  of  the  law,  a  convicted  criminal,"  reiterated 
Carl  bitterly.  "A  jury  of  my  peers  sifted  the  evi- 
dence and  decided  that  there  was  no  doubt  of  my 
guilt." 

"Still,  I  say  that  you  are  not  a  thief  1"  said  Hattie 
vehemently;  "and  you  cannot  tell  me  that  you  are 
yourself." 

"Of  course,"  said  Englewood  sadly,  "I  plead  not 
guilty  before  the  bar.  But  any  criminal  would  be 
likely  to  do  that  if  he  thought  he  had  a  chance  to 


UNCLE  CARL  373 

escape  punishment.  But  it  didn't  do  me  any  good 
there;  why  should  1  deny  the  crime  here." 

"Mr.  Englewood,"  said  Hattie,  springing  to  her 
feet  and  standing  before  him  with  flushed  face,  "if 
the  whole  world  pronounced  you  a  criminal  I  would 
not  believe  it.  If  you  yourself  should  tell  me  that 
you  were  guilty  I  would  not  believe  it.  If  I  should 
see  you  commit  a  crime  with  my  own  eyes,  I  would 
not  believe  it.  For  always  and  forever  you  are  to 
me  the  truest,  noblest  man  God  ever  made!"  and 
turning  suddenly,  she  flung  herself  -at  Mrs.  Court- 
right's  feet  and  buried  her  face  in  that  good  lady's 
lap.  "Oh,  mother,  why,  oh  why  are  people  allowed 
to  do  and  say  such  things?" 

"There,  there,  little  daughter,"  said  Mrs.  Court- 
right,  "it's  all  right.  I  know  all  about  it  and  I 
believe  as  you  do.  But  in  politics  there  seems  to  be 
no  conscience.  Everything  will  come  out  right  in  the 
end." 

There  was  silence  for  a  few  moments,  and  then 
Englewood  slowly  arose  from  his  chair,  and  placed 
his  hand  lightly  on  the  bowed  head;  saying  in  a 
broken,  almost  diffident  voice : 

"I  can't  thank  you  Miss  Braton,  but  I  want  you  to 
know  that  this  is  one  of  the  proudest  moments  of 
my  life.  It  is  worth  all  and  much  more  than  I  have 
gone  through  with,  to  win  such  trust  as  this;  and 
I  bless  you  for  your  healing  touch  on  the  old  wound." 
He  paused  a  moment,  and  then  turning  to  Courtright 
said,  "I  think  that  I  will  go  to  my  room,  old  friend, 
and  leave  you  to  make  such  explanations  as  you  think 
best.  I  must  take  the  early  morning  train  for 
Kaloma  to  face  the  music." 

"All  right,  Englewood,"  the  lawyer  replied;   "but, 


374  UNCLE  CARL 

say!     I  don't  like  to  have  you  go  over  there  alone. 
Would  my  company  be  unwelcome? 

"Not  unwelcome  ordinarily,"  said  Carl,  "but  I  go 
now  to  face  constant  humiliation,  and  somehow  I 
think  that  I  can  bear  it  best  if  alone;  and  so  good 
night.  I'll  see  you  all  again  in  the  morning." 


CHAPTER  XXXII 

Englewood  suffered  during  the  next  few  days. 
Not  that  there  was  much  open  humiliation  for  him 
as  he  moved  about  the  city;  for,  save  that  a  few  of 
the  coarse-minded,  lower  strata  thought  it  a  smart 
thing  to  make  sneering  remarks  as  he  passed,  there 
was  naught  in  the  treatment  that  he  received  that 
would  seem  to  an  onlooker  different  from  that  to 
which  he  had  been  accustomed  in  the  past.  But 
Englewood  was  supersensitive  in  spite  of  his  self-pos- 
session ;  and  though  he  would  not  turn  a  hair's  breadth 
from  the  straight  path  of  duty  to  court  public  esteem 
or  to  avoid  public  condemnation,  yet  to  him,  as  to  us 
all,  there  was  great  comfort  in  feeling  that  he  held 
the  confidence  of  his  cotemporaries.  And  now,  hold- 
ing his  head  up,  conscious  that,  whatever  his  past  may 
have  been,  he  was  now  at  least  an  honorable  man,  he 
yet  felt  rather  than  saw  a  change  in  the  demeanor  of 
his  acquaintances.  Many  indeed  were  heartily, 
honestly  glad  to  see  him;  and  greeted  him  with 
trusting  friendship.  But  he  knew  that  many  would 
be  suspicious  of  his  present  in  the  light  of  that  past 
which  had  been  revealed  in  such  a  harsh  manner. 
And  so,  even  where  trust  was  absolute,  Carl  would 
yet  shrink  with  the  fear  that  the  truth  as  told  in  the 
newspapers  would  lessen  friendship.  He  never 
knew  until  now  how  precious  to  him  was  the  trust  of 
his  fellows;  and  it  all  hurt.  It  hurt. 

It  is  undeniable  that  a  clean  record  is  one  of  the 
most  potent  factors  in  successful  public  life.  The 
masses  of  the  people,  while  they  may  be  swayed  by 
special  issues  or  emotional  arguments,  yet  hold  fast, 


376  UNCLE  CARL 

as  a  rule,  to  the  man  who  has  won  their  confidence  by 
clean,  consistent,  honest  effort.  Yet  the  masses  of  the 
people  do  not  come  into  close  contact  with  the  per- 
sonal life  of  a  public  man;  and  while  his  few  close 
associates  will,  because  they  know  him,  believe  in 
and  defend  a  true  man  in  spite  of  the  clouds  that  may 
darken  his  reputation  to  the  multitude,  the  latter  must 
be  guided  in  the  main  by  the  record.  When,  then, 
it  is  shown  by  the  indubitable  record  of  the  law  court 
that  a  man  has  been  guilty  of  crime,  the  masses  must 
be  influenced  by  it  in  some  measure,  no  matter  what 
his  life  has  been  before  or  since.  As  Josh  Billings 
has  said,  "A  reputation  once  broken  may  possibly  be 
repaired,  but  the  world  will  always  keep  their  eyes  on 
the  spot  where  the  crack  was";  and  that  break  often 
seems  the  more  serious  in  proportion  to  the  degree  of 
confidence  won  before  it  becomes  known.  And  so 
this  exposure  could  hardly  be  other  than  politically 
advantageous  to  Stanhope's  candidacy;  and  could  the 
revulsion  of  feeling  against  Englewood  be  made  to 
hold  for  a  few  days,  would  undoubtedly  result  in  the 
success  at  the  polls  of  the  corporation's  candidate. 

The  president  of  the  Federation  was  in  his  office 
discussing  with  the  members  of  a  sub-committee  the 
serious  crisis  at  hand.  "I  have  received  a  communi- 
cation from  Mr.  Courtright,"  he  said,  "and  he  urges 
us  to  hold  the  mass  meeting  two  or  three  days  earlier 
than  we  had  intended.  He  evidently  has  something 
up  his  sleeve  that  he  is  confident  will  help  us  out; 
but  declines  to  tell  what  it  is." 

"Courtright  is  a  man  who  knows  what  he  is  about," 
said  Mr.  Howe;  "but  for  all  that,  I  don't  like  to 
work  in  the  dark.  Do  you  suppose  that  it  is  some 
exposure  of  Stanhope  that  he  has  in  view?" 

"No,"  answered  the  president.     "He  knows  that 


UNCLE  CARL  377 

mud-slinging  is  not  our  method  of  work,  and  I  hardly 
think  that  he  would  attempt  anything  of  that  kind 
without  our  knowing  about  it  first." 

"How  does  Englewood  feel  about  it?"  asked  Cap- 
tain Davis. 

"He  dreads  the  ordeal,"  said  the  president.  "It 
was  with  considerable  difficulty  that  I  could  persuade 
him  that  he  owed  it  to  us  to  appear  at  the  meeting 
and  address  the  people;  but  he  knows  nothing  of 
Courtright's  part  in  it.  In  fact,  Courtright  particu- 
larly urged  that  he  should  not  know  until  he  came. 
But  he  says  that  so  long  as  he  must  appear,  he  does 
not  care  what  night  it  is." 

"I  may  be  wrong,"  said  Davis,  "but  my  opinion  is 
this :  Courtright,  as  we  all  know,  is  a  close  friend  of 
Englewood's  and  believes  in  him  most  thoroughly. 
Doubtless  he  is  collecting  some  evidence  to  our  candi- 
date's advantage,  that  out  of  modesty  Englewood 
would  forbid  being  made  public.  For  we  all  know 
that  while  constantly  helping  the  unfortunate,  he 
objects  to  his  private  benevolences  being  made  a  sub- 
ject for  public  discussion.  I  am  in  favor  of  follow- 
ing his  friend's  advice  in  this  matter;  for  he  un- 
doubtedly wishes  the  earlier  meeting  in  order  that 
whatever  he  has  in  hand  may  be  made  known  to  the 
voters  of  the  whole  district  before  election  day." 

"I  agree  with  the  Captain,"  said  Mr.  Howe. 
"We  have  nothing  special  in  view  for  this  meeting 
save  to  create  enthusiasm  for  our  candidate,  if  pos- 
sible, on  the  eve  of  election.  Courtright  is  a  level- 
headed man,  with  considerable  experience  in  political 
work,  and  I  am  sure  would  do  nothing  to  lessen  his 
friend's  chances ;  while  he  may  have  that  in  view  that 
would  help  him  greatly." 

The  other  members  of  the  committee  having  like 


378  UNCLE  CARL 

views,  it  was  decided  to  hold  their  mass  meeting  on 
the  next  Saturday  evening;  the  election  occurring  the 
following  Tuesday. 

It  was  a  crowded  house  that  greeted  the  occupants 
of  the  stage  on  that  memorable  night.  On  the  plat- 
form were  some  noted  orators,  and  some  men  of 
wide  and  honorable  reputation,  respected  as  earnest 
workers  rather  than  as  speakers.  There  were  a  few 
scattered  hisses  from  his  enemies  as  Englewood  took 
his  seat,  but  they  were  quickly  silenced  by  the  ap- 
plause that  greeted  the  president,  who  immediately 
arose  to  open  the  meeting. 

After  two  or  three  brief  "five-minute-talks"  by 
some  of  the  lesser  lights,  the  president  said,  "We 
have  with  us  to-night,  ladies  and  gentlemen,  a 
stranger  to  you  all,  save  by  reputation.  One  whom 
you  have  often  heard  of  and  read  of  as  a  most  con- 
sistent and  energetic  worker  both  in  private  and 
public  life,  for  truth,  honor,  and  sturdy  virtue.  He 
arrived  only  to-night,  and  having  kept  himself  in- 
formed as  to  the  political  situation  here,  desires  to 
address  you  later  on  a  matter  of  deepest  import  at 
this  time.  I  may  say  also,  that  his  coming  was  un- 
known to  us ;  was  in  fact  a  total  surprise  to  all  but  a 
friend  of  our  cause  who  summoned  him  in  our  behalf. 
We  are  more  than  glad  of  this  friend's  interest,  for 
we  know  that  through  his  efforts  the  success  of  our 
cause  has  been  assured.  Before  introducing  this 
gentleman  to  you,  however,  our  candidate  for  repre- 
sentative, Mr.  Englewood,  whom  most  of  you  have 
learned  to  respect  during  the  years  of  his  residence 
in  our  city,  will  address  you  briefly." 

Englewood  arose  midst  a  profound  silence. 
Shrinking  from  this  publicity,  yet  scorning  to  hide 


UNCLE  CARL  379 

from  those  who  were  seeking  his  downfall,  he  stood 
before  them  silently  for  a  moment.  A  faint  hiss  or 
two  was  heard  and  then  a  half-hearted  attempt  at 
applause  died  quickly  away.  It  was  hard.  It 
seemed  to  him  that  it  was  a  mistake  for  the  committee 
to  insist  upon  his  being  here.  Still,  he  had  nerved 
himself  for  the  ordeal,  and  after  a  few  preliminary 
words  touching  the  work  and  aims  of  the  Federation, 
he  spoke  as  follows: 

"You  are  undoubtedly  somewhat  curious,  fellow- 
citizens,  as  to  what  reply  I  shall  make  to  the  articles 
that  have  recently  appeared  in  our  local  papers.  In 
truth,  it  is  a  peculiarly  difficult  position  in  which  I  am 
placed.  I  nold  that  undue  self-depreciation  is  as 
much  to  be  deprecated  as  inordinate  self-conceit 
and  knowing  my  own  character  better  than  any  one 
else,  I  must  decline  to  lower  my  flag  because  a  fault 
has  been  found  in  my  past  record.  We  are  none  of 
us  free  from  fault;  and  yet,  what  a  strange,  incon- 
sistent people  we  are.  A  man  is  considered  justified 
in  being  very  indignant  at  one  who  calls  him  a  'liar' ; 
and  yet  people  would  laugh  at,  and  call  a  'hypocrite,' 
the  man  who  would  claim  to  be  always  a  truth-teller. 
And  so  with  me.  There  are  those  who  feel  that  I 
ought  to  show  great  indignation  at  the  charge  of  our 
opponents.  Yet,  if  I  should  claim  to  have  never 
committed  a  sin,  I  think  that  those  same  champions 
would  shake  their  heads  in  disapproval.  I  say  to 
you,  fellow-citizens,  that  I  do  not  feel  indignant  at 
the  opposition  for  unearthing  what  they  consider 
proof  of  a  crime  committed  by  me.  But  I  do  feel 
indignant,  and  I  think  justly  so,  at  the  coarse,  hard 
manner  in  which  they  have  made  it  public.  I  say  to 
you,  and  with  sorrow,  that  the  records  of  the  court 
as  given  by  the  papers  is  absolutely  correct.  I 
acknowledge  that  I  was  convicted  by  a  jury  of  my 


380  UNCLE  CARL 

peers  as  described.  But,  ladies  and  gentlemen,  I 
plead  then,  as  I  plead  now,  'not  guilty' !  In  explana- 
tion I  have  only  two  things  to  offer.  First,  I  was  too 
poor  to  employ  a  lawyer,  I  handled  my  own  case,  and 
made  a  very  poor  attorney.  Second,  I  was  under  a 
certain  promise,  that  forbade  me  to  introduce  evi- 
dence that  might  have  influenced  the  jury  to  bring  in 
a  different  verdict.  I  kept  my  promise.  Not  that  I 
claim  any  credit  for  that,  for  a  promise  should  be  a 
sacred  thing  to  every  one.  I  can  only  ask  you,  gentle- 
men, to  view  my  course  with  such  leniency  as  you  feel 
is  compatible  with  the  greatest  good  to  the  people; 
to  remember  that  this  one  blot  on  my  reputation  is 
all  that  our  opponents  have  been  able  to  discover; 
and  that  while  I  do  not  by  any  means  claim  to  be 
faultless,  I  certainly  do  in  this  affair  claim  to  be 
blameless." 

As  Englewood  sat  down,  it  was  with  the  feeling 
that  his  speech  was  a  failure,  from  a  political  stand- 
point; though  his  conscience  told  him  that  he  was 
right.  What  his  audience  felt  is  difficult  to  say; 
but  what  all  felt  ten  minutes  later  is  plain. 

The  president  arose  as  Carl  took  his  seat,  and  said, 
"We  are  not  surprised  at  the  confession  that  Mr. 
Englewood  has  made.  We  rather  expected  that  he 
would  say  just  about  that,  and  we  are  sure  that  he 
has  the  sympathy  of  this  audience  in  the  very  difficult 
position  in  which  he  has  been  placed.  But  we  have 
a  surprise  in  store,  not  only  for  you  but  for  him,  in 
the  speaker  who  will  follow.  Ladies  and  Gentlemen, 
I  have  the  honor  of  introducing  to  you  Mr.  George 
Karr  of  Topeka,  Kansas." 

A  tall,  dark-complexioned  man  advanced  from  the 
rear  of  the  stage,  where  he  had  been  concealed  from 
view  by  a  large  flag.  Englewood  started  as  his  name 


UNCLE  CARL  381 

was  announced;  and  as  the  stranger  passed  him,  he 
reached  out.  "George,"  he  hoarsely  whispered, 
"come  back;  remember  your  mother";  but  the  gen- 
tleman paying  no  attention  to  him,  advanced  to  the 
front  amidst  a  tumult  of  applause.  For  he  was  a 
man  known  as  a  fearless,  strenuous,  and  clean  worker 
in  the  cause  of  political  purity  in  his  own  State,  with 
a  rapidly  growing  national  reputation  as  a  vigorously 
active  advocate  of  individual  character  building  as 
the  first  essential  in  safe-guarding  the  future  of  our 
country.  He  was  not  a  brilliant  orator,  but  he  ad- 
dressed his  audience  in  an  impressive,  easy,  conversa- 
tional manner  that  carried  conviction  with  every  sen- 
tence. He  spoke  as  follows : 

"Ladies  and  Gentlemen:  The  gentleman  who  has 
just  spoken  said  well,  I  think,  when  he  asserted  that 
'undue  self-depreciation  is  as  much  to  be  deprecated 
as  inordinate  self-conceit.'  I  agree  with  him,  and  I 
am  proud  to  feel  that  what  I  have  done  during  the 
last  several  years,  the  record  that  I  have  established, 
has  been  such  as  will  enable  you  to  believe  implicitly 
the  words  I  am  about  to  speak  to  you.  I  am  sure 
that  you  will  believe  what  I  tell  you  when,  after  I 
have  finished,  you  realize  that  I  in  some  considerable 
measure  cloud  my  own  reputation,  and  place  myself 
in  an  even  more  unenviable  position  than  Mr.  Engle- 
wood  stands  in  to-night.  And  I  do  this  in  the  cause 
of  truth  and  justice.  I  want  to  relate  to  you  a  little 
of  my  past  history.  History  of  myself  when  a  boy, 
and  at  this  time  known  to  but  two  men  besides  my- 
self. 

"I  was  the  only  son  of  a  good  mother.  A  mother 
whose  love,  like  the  love  of  so  many  noble  women, 
blinded  her  eyes  to  the  possibility  that  her  son  might 
be  in  some  degree  unworthy  of  the  unbounded  trust 


382  UNCLE  CARL 

she  had  in  him.  My  father  died  during  my  early 
boyhood.  At  twenty  I  was  drawn  into  bad  associa- 
tions, and,  I  must  admit,  not  altogether  unwillingly. 
I  learned  to  play  cards,  to  gamble;  to  frequent,  on  the 
sly,  saloons  and  other  questionable  places.  My  ex- 
penditures and  losses  soon  exceeded  my  small  allow- 
ance, and  I  became  involved  in  those  miscalled  'debts 
of  honor.'  At  this  time  I  was  in  the  habit  of 
spending  considerable  time  in  the  store  of  a  merchant, 
who,  trusting  me  fully,  allowed  me  the  freedom  of 
his  place  of  business.  My  'debts  of  honor'  beginning 
to  harass  me,  I  yielded  to  temptation,  and  from  time 
to  time  abstracted,  yes,  stole  from  the  money-drawer, 
such  sums  as  I  needed.  It  was  not  long,  however, 
before  one  of  the  employees  began  to  have  suspicions 
that  all  was  not  right;  and  one  evening  caught  me  in 
the  act  of  robbery.  And  yet,  he  was  a  very  kindly 
man.  He  did  not  threaten  to  expose  me;  but  in- 
viting me  to  his  room,  we  had  a  long  heart-to-heart 
talk;  and  the  result  of  that  talk  was  to  nourish  in  me 
the  seed  of  whatever  of  good  I  have  since  been  able 
to  accomplish.  He  told  me  that  the  proprietor  was 
already  aware  of  a  leakage.  But  he  promised  me 
that,  if  I  would  make  the  new  effort,  and  make  good 
the  faith  my  mother  had  in  me,  he  would  keep  my 
secret  from  all;  he  would  himself  replace  the 
money  I  had  taken,  and  I  should  repay  him  when 
able.  He  roused  in  me  the  dormant  manhood,  made 
me  realize  the  end  of  the  path  I  was  following,  and 
spurred  me  on  toward  a  more  worthy  manhood. 
Through  his  influence  I  secured  a  position  in  Topeka ; 
and,  my  lesson  well  learned,  I  have  since  lived  a  life 
of  honor  so  far  as  I  have  been  able.  My  mother, 
God  bless  her,  still  lives  with  me ;  trusting  and  hon- 
oring me  with  her  love  and  without  a  suspicion  of 


UNCLE  CARL  383 

that  dark  page  in  my  life.  What,  fellow-citizens, 
will  be  her  word  when  she  learns  of  this  night's  con- 
fession? What,  think  you,  is  my  object  in  making 
it?  I  will  tell  you.  When  she  learns  of  it  and  of 
the  reason  for  my  telling  it,  her  eyes  will  fill  with 
tears  and  she  will  fold  me  in  her  arms  as  she  says, 
'You  have  done  well;  your  sacrifice  wipes  out  the 
stain.'  For  what  is  my  object?  Not,  I  assure  you, 
to  pose  as  a  martyr.  Not  to  create  a  sensation ;  but 
to  right  a  wrong  to  one  of  the  noblest,  most  faithful 
men  God  ever  made. 

"It  was  several  months  before  I  learned  that, 
after  I  had  left  for  Kansas,  suspicion  fell  upon  my 
friend.  Circumstances  so  combined  as  to  indicate 
that  he  was  the  guilty  thief.  He  was  arrested  and 
tried.  Too  poor  to  employ  an  attorney,  he  conducted 
his  own  case.  Faithful  to  his  promise  to  me,  he  re- 
fused to  make  use  of  the  evidence  that  would  have 
cleared  him  and  convicted  me.  The  jury  pronounced 
him  'guilty.'  When  I  learned  of  this,  I  at  once  wrote 
to  him  with  the  purpose  of  making  a  full  confession ; 
but  he  urged  me  to  say  nothing.  'I  can  bear  the  bur- 
den,' he  wrote,  'if  you  will  only  prove  worthy.  You 
are  living  a  good  life  now;  let  me  know  by  your  con- 
tinuance in  well-doing  that  my  sacrifice  has  not  been 
in  vain.'  I  was  young  and  ambitious,  and  in  consider- 
able measure  selfish;  and  what  a  heavy  cross  my 
friend  carried  for  me  I  did  not  realize  until  to-night. 
For  he  has  kept  his  faith  to  this  day.  His  promise  to 
shield  my  reputation  has  never  been  broken.  And  to- 
night, when  a  man  stood  before  you  and  admitted  the 
truth  of  a  court  record  against  his  honor,  he  had  not 
one  word  to  say  that  might  cast  a  shadow  of  blame 
on  another.  Ladies  and  gentlemen,  I  confess  to  you 
my  sin,  and  I  say  to  you,  with  full  confidence  that  you 


384  UNCLE  CARL 

will  believe  me,  that  Carl  Englewood, — the  friend  of 
my  young  manhood,  the  bearer  of  my  burden  of  sin, 
the  earnest  helper  in  my  struggles  toward  the  better 
life, — is  guiltless  of  the  crime  of  which  he  was  con- 
victed, and  stands  before  the  world  to-day,  one  of  the 
purest,  truest,  most  faithful  of  men." 

As  the  speaker  ceased  it  seemed  as  if  pandemonium 
had  broken  loose.  Cheers  for  Mr.  Karr;  cheers  for 
Englewood;  cheers  for  the  Federation.  The  noise 
was  deafening.  Carl,  as  soon  as  his  friend  began  to 
speak,  had  quietly  withdrawn ;  and  when  in  response 
to  calls  from  the  audience  a  messenger  was  sent  for 
him,  he  was  not  to  be  found.  Late  that  night  Court- 
right  and  Mr.  Karr  went  to  his  room  at  the  hotel, 
and  waited  for  him.  It  was  past  twelve  before  he 
entered,  and  grasping  the  latter's  hand  said : 

"Oh,  George,  why  did  you  do  it?  Why  did  you 
not  spare  the  mother?" 

"Because,  my  friend,"  was  the  answer,  "both  my 
mother  and  you  have  taught  me  to  place  truth  above 
all  other  considerations;  and  I  am  not  afraid  but 
that  her  sorrow  will  be  more  than  outweighed  by  the 
good  I  have  accomplished  to-night." 

"He's  right,  you  old  sinner,"  said  Courtright. 
"There  is  no  question  but  that  this  night's  work 
means  your  election.  But  if  you  must  blame  some 
one,  blame  me.  I  am  responsible  for  Mr.  Karr's 
appearance." 

"But  how  did  you  know  anything  about  it,"  asked 
Carl.  "I  thought  I  kept  the  secret  close." 

"So  you  did,  so  you  did,"  answered  the  lawyer; 
"but  I  went  over  to  X—  -  on  a  little  private  de- 
tective trip  of  my  own,  a  month  ago.  From  what  I 
learned  I  put  two  and  two  together,  and  made  eight. 
Then  I  learned  Mr.  Karr's  address,  and  he  made  it 


UNCLE  CARL  385 

forty-eight.  I  have  known  your  secret  for  a  month. 
He  wanted  to  come  right  up  and  straighten  it  out,  but 
I  persuaded  him  to  wait  until  the  other  fellows  had 
put  their  foot  in  it,  and  then  his  confession  would 
cause  a  revulsion  of  feeling  that  would  sweep  you  in 
with  the  biggest  majority  this  district  has  ever  known. 
That  was  just  political  finessing.  But  I  confess  that 
it  hurt  me  like  sixty  to  see  you  worrying  about  the  ex- 
posure; especially  when  you  persisted  in  refusing  to 
tell  me  the  secret  I  knew  already.  Oh,  Englewood, 
you  are  the  grandest  old  chump  on  earth!" 


CHAPTER  XXXIII 

A  fortnight  has  passed.  On  the  platform  of  a 
suburban  station  near  Chicago  a  little  crowd  was 
awaiting  the  train  from  the  city,  that  would  bring 
back  from  their  daily  labor  the  fathers  and  husbands, 
brothers  and  sisters.  The  snow  was  falling  in  large 
"sugar  flakes,"  covering  the  landscape  with  its  pure 
whiteness.  Children,  with  healthy,  noisy  gusto,  were 
revelling  in  the  first  snow  of  the  season;  and  their 
merry,  joyous  laughter,  their  red  cheeks  and  bright 
eyes;  the  invigorating,  smokeless  air;  the  merry 
jingle  of  sleigh  bells  made  a  cheery  welcome  for  the 
labor-weary  home-comers.  One  little  group  of  five — 
our  friends  they  were:  Mrs.  Courtright,  Hattie 
Braton,  and  the  three  children — advanced  with  eager 
greetings  as  Mr.  Courtright  alighted,  followed  by 
the  tall  form  of  Carl  Englewood.  They  had  not 
seen  Mr.  Englewood  since  he  had  left  them  on  the 
morning  following  his  exposure;  but  it  is  needless  to 
say  how  proud  they  were  of  his  vindication,  which 
had  resulted  in  his  overwhelming  victory  at  the  polls. 

"Words  of  congratulation  seem  superfluous,"  said 
Mrs.  Courtright  as  she  extended  her  hand.  "You 
know  how  we  all  feel,  and  that  we  are  always  glad 
to  welcome  you." 

"Thank  you,"  answered  Carl.  "I  am  only  sorry 
that  you  cannot  understand  how  /  feel.  I  am  made  to 
forget,  when  with  this  little  circle,  that  there  is  any- 
thing else  but  brightness  in  the  world.  And  Miss 
Braton,  too !  You  have  done  much  to  cheer  this  old 
fogy,"  and  he  clasped  her  hand  as  she  quietly  greeted 
him;  and  then  the  children  came  in  with  their  share 


UNCLE  CARL  387 

of  the  welcome,  little  Beatrice  dragging  her  sled 
along  as  they  crossed  the  platform,  insisting  that  her 
chum  must  get  on  for  a  ride  home. 

"But,  little  daughter,"  said  Mrs.  Courtright,  "Mr. 
Englewood  is  a  great  big  man,  and  it  wouldn't  be 
dignified  for  him  to  do  that.  You  mustn't  forget 
that  he  is  an  'Honorable'  now,  with  a  big,  big  H." 

"Why,"  said  the  little  girl,  "Uncle  Carl's  always 
honorable.  That's  what  makes  him  such  a  splendid 
chum.  Isn't  it,  Uncle  Carl?" 

"Dignity,  nothing!"  exclaimed  Englewood  with  a 
pleased  smile;  "you  don't  think  I'd  miss  such  a 
chance  to  get  a  free  ride,  do  you?  If  the  sled  is 
strong  enough  to  hold  me  I'm  not  going  to  walk  a 
step." 

And  forthwith  he  sat  down,  cramping  his  long  legs 
up  out  of  the  snow,  and  away  they  all  started;  the 
older  children  helping  Beatrice  to  draw  her  passenger 
home,  while  Courtright  pelted  him  with  snow  from 
behind.  And  so,  with  merry  laughter  and  eager, 
happy  faces,  was  Englewood  again  ushered  out  of 
the  strife  and  turmoil  of  the  world  into  the  haven  of 
Courtright's  home.  And  what  a  home  it  was ! 
There  shadows  were  never  allowed  to  enter  save  with 
the  purpose  of  being  dissipated  by  the  all-pervading 
light  of  helpful  good-will.  There  no  harsh  criticisms 
of  one's  fellows,  no  fault-findings,  no  ill  news  from 
the  outer  world,  no  petty  jealousies,  nor  envious 
strife,  nor  scandalous  gossip  could  gain  a  foothold. 
There  were  times,  it  is  true,  and  they  were  not  infre- 
quent, when  the  burdens  and  griefs  and  wrongs  of 
the  outer  world  found  an  entrance.  But  they  were 
discussed  only  that  light  might  be  gained  and  means 
suggested  whereby  the  evils  might  be  lessened. 
There  was  no  cant  about  these  people,  no  preaching; 


388  UNCLE  CARL 

but  the  home  atmosphere  was  naturally  so  pure,  the 
affection  so  real,  and  the  ambition  to  elevate  and  to 
be  elevated  so  strong,  that  the  petty  cares  and  strifes 
of  humanity  were  out  of  place  there;  and  when  per- 
chance some  gossipy  caller  would  yield  to  the  desire 
to  "tell  the  awful  news,"  it  was  with  a  feeling  of 
chagrin — of  shame — that,  the  chilling  silence  first, 
and  then  a  quiet  change  of  subject  made  the  caller 
realize  that  slime  could  not  float  on  these  pure 
waters. 

But  oh,  what  comfort  and  happiness  abounded 
here.  What  pure  rollicking  fun;  and  what  quiet, 
satisfying,  trusting  companionship.  While  Engle- 
wood  remained  with  them  he  felt  that  each  day  he 
gained  new  strength  for  his  work;  a  firmer  belief  in 
the  value  of  humanity;  a  deeper  trust  in  the  efficacy 
of  the  principles  of  Truth  and  Love. 

The  days  were  just  long  hours  of  peace  and  joy. 
During  the  morning  hours  he  usually  took  a  long 
walk  in  the  clear  bracing  air,  sometimes  accompanied 
by  Miss  Bratbn  or  the  children;  returning  in  time  to 
go  through  his  mail,  which  was  large,  before  meal- 
time, and  to  read  his  papers.  For  he  wished  to  keep 
in  touch  with  public  events — events  of  daily  increas- 
ing moment,  and  in  which  he  was  destined  to  bear 
an  important  part.  After  luncheon,  for  the  dinner 
was  always  served  after  Mr.  Courtright's  return  in 
the  evening,  he  passed  quiet  chatty  social  hours  with 
the  two  ladies  until  with  noisy,  healthful  shouts  the 
children  would  burst  in  from  school.  And  then  what 
times  they  had!  Out  in  the  snow  for  a  frolic;  Carl 
as  much  of  a  child  as  any  of  them.  Forts  were  made, 
snow  men  set  up ;  sliding  down  hill,  burrowing  in  the 
drifts,  throwing  balls  at  each  other,  laughing,  chatter- 
ing, full  of  boisterous,  life-loving,  health-giving  ani- 


UNCLE  CARL  389 

mation.  Thus  were  the  hours  passed  until  time  to  go 
down  to  meet  Mr.  Courtright  at  the  depot.  And 
then,  after  the  evening  meal,  came  the  beautiful  cosy 
hours.  Music,  reading  aloud,  games,  and  quiet  com- 
fortable talks,  when  all  gathered  about  the  warm 
grate-fire  for  "our  last  thinks,"  as  little  Beatrice  ex- 
pressed it,  before  retiring. 

"Ralph  is  turning  out  to  be  a  fine  young  fellow, 
isn't  he?"  said  Courtright  one  evening  as  they  were 
thus  gathered  about  the  glowing  coals. 

"Indeed  he  is,"  answered  Carl.  "Ralph  is  pure 
gold;  faithful  in  his  work,  courageous  and  clean 
morally,  and  loyal  to  his  friends.  He  will  be  a  man 
of  more  than  ordinary  worth,  I  think." 

"We  expect  him  here  next  week,"  said  Mrs.  Court- 
right.  "He  wrote  to  Arthur  saying  that  he  has  an 
offer  of  a  fine  position  and  that  he  wants  to  see  us  and 
talk  some  things  over  before  he  accepts  it.  He  wants 
'Uncle  Carl'  to  be  sure  to  be  here." 

"Well,  now,  that's  too  bad,"  said  Englewood.  "I 
really  ought  not  to  stay  over;  there  are  many  things 
that  I  must  see  to  at  Kaloma.  But  you  people  can 
advise  the  youngster  just  as  well  as  I." 

"Come  now,  come  now,  you  old  humbug!"  said 
Courtright.  "You  haven't  fairly  settled  down  yet, 
and  here  you  go  tearing  off  again." 

"I've  been  here  ten  days,"  said  Carl,  "and  that's  a 
long  time  for  me  to  be  away  from  my  work." 

"Ten  days!"  exclaimed  the  lawyer,  "not  much! 
Why  it's  only — let's  see ;  you  came  last  hm-m-m— 

"Yes,"  said  Englewood,  "I  came  a  week  ago  Mon- 
day, and  really  I  feel  that  I  must  return  Saturday  at 
the  latest.  If  Ralph  really  wishes  to  see  me  person- 
ally he  can  meet  me  at  your  office  Saturday  afternoon, 
before  I  take  the  boat." 


390  UNCLE  CARL 

There  was  a  chorus  of  "noes"  from  them  all,  but 
they  did  not  avail  to  change  Carl's  determination, 
and  soon  they  separated  for  the  journey  into  dream- 
land ;  the  older  friends  remaining  for  a  little  further 
chat. 

"What  a  charming  young  lady  Hattie  has  grown 
to  be,"  said  Courtright,  as  with  a  smiling  good  night 
she  closed  the  door  behind  her.  "I  declare,  if  I 
hadn't  the  best  on  earth  myself,  I'd  try  to  capture 
her." 

"Hattie  is  a  dear  little  girl,"  said  Mrs.  Courtright. 
"I  don't  know  how  I  could  get  along  without  her 
sweet  winning  ways.  It's  such  a  pity  that  she  is  alone 
in  the  world." 

"Not  alone,"  said  Englewood.  "One  can  never 
be  alone  who  has  such  friends  as  you  people.  But  is 
she  without  blood  relations?  I  have  never  inquired 
particularly." 

"Nor  have  I,"  said  the  lady.  "She  is  true  and 
pure,  and  that  is  all  I  have  cared  to  know.  Though 
she  is  not  at  all  secretive  about  other  things,  she  never 
even  suggests  anything  pertaining  to  her  past  life. 
But  didn't  you  learn  about  her  parentage  when  you 
found  her  out  West?" 

"Why,  no,"  said  Englewood  thoughtfully.  "She 
did  tell  me  something  of  her  history,  that  her  parents 
were  both  dead,  and  that  her  guardian  deserted  her 
out  there;  but,  really,  I  did  not  pay  the  attention  I 
should  have,  and  so  many  other  things  happened  at 
that  time  that  what  she  told  me  was  forgotten.  I 
only  saw  that  she  was  very  unfortunate  and  an  em- 
phatic misfit  with  her  environment.  But  it  doesn't 
concern  us.  She  is  a  young  lady  to  be  proud  of,  and 
nothing  else  matters  unless  she  wishes  to  disclose  her 
early  history." 


UNCLE  CARL  39 1 

"Do  you  know,  my  friend,"  said  the  lady,  "that  I 
had  hoped  that  you  would  settle  down  before  long  in 
a  snug  little  home  of  your  own;  perhaps  with  just 
such  a  dear  girl  as  Hattie." 

"Wife's  right,"  interposed  Courtright.  ^  "You 
have  no  business  to  keep  your  high-mightiness  to 
yourself  any  longer.  It's  selfish  of  you;  you  ought 
to  be  ashamed  of  yourself  when  there  are  so  many 
fine  damsels  anxious  to  hen-peck  you,  and  you  keep 
aloof." 

"But  I'm  so  particular,"  said  Englewood  face- 
tiously. "And  you  said  yourself  that  there  were  no 
others  of  your  wife's  class." 

"Oh,  of  course,  if  you  are  aiming  at  something  so 
much  higher  than  you  deserve  as  that,  your  case  is 
hopeless,"  said  the  lawyer,  gently  patting  his  wife's 
hand.  "But,  of  course,  old  friend,  it's  your  own 
affair  and  we  have  no  right  to  interfere.  I  know 
how  tenderly  you  remember  the  one  who  has  gone, 
and  I  respect  your  sorrow.  Only,  there  is  such  a 
thing  as  keeping  a  wound  open  until  it  becomes  an 
ulcerous  sore,  when  the  law  of  nature  intends  that 
time  shall  heal  it." 

"Ah  well,  my  dear  friends,"  said  Carl  thought- 
fully, "I  don't  mind  telling  you,  who  are  so  kindly 
interested,  that  it  is  my  hope  some  time — when  I  am 
free  to  do  so;  when  I  have  found  the  wanderer  whom 
my  carelessness  so1  deeply  wronged,  and  have  cared 
for  her,  and  I  can  feel  free  to  live  somewhat  more  for 
my  own  selfish  comfort — to  win,  if  I  can,  the  love  of 
the  little  girl  who  just  left  us.  I  confess  to  you  a 
deep  affection  for  Hattie  Braton.  Not  such  a  love 
as,  long  years  ago,  Irene  awakened  in  me.  That  pas- 
sionate emotion  of  my  youth  is  gone  forever,  though 
it  is  and  shall  always  be  a  sacred  memory.  But  if 


392  UNCLE  CARL 

this  little  girl  could  care  for  such  an  old  chump  as  I, 
I  think  that  I  could  make  her  happy.  I  am  sure  that 
I  could ;  and  oh,  I  do  long  for  a  happy  home  of  my 
own." 

"Good  for  you,  old  chap !"  exclaimed  Courtright. 
"And  I  am  sure  that  when  you  speak  to  her  the 
answer  will  not  be  'no.'  I  wish  you  joy  in  advance. 
But  speaking  of  your  ward,  I  presume  that  you  have 
had  no  inkling  of  Jenkins  yet,  have  you?" 

"No,"  replied  Englewood;  "and  that  is  one  reason 
that  I  feel  that  I  should  get  back  to  Kaloma  as  soon 
as  possible.  I  left  a  trustworthy  friend  on  the  watch 
for  me  over  there,  but  he  has  business  that  will  take 
him  out  of  town  next  Monday.  Oh,  by  the  way,  just 
let  me  write  a  card  to  Ralph  for  you  to  mail  in  the 
morning.  It  may  be  that  he  has  some  special  reason 
for  wanting  to  see  me."  And  sitting  down  at  the 
desk  Englewood  hastily  wrote,  telling  the  lad  to  call 
at  Courtright's  office  Saturday  afternoon  if  he  wanted 
him  particularly.  And  then,  with  cordial  "good 
nights,"  the  friends  separated. 

The  remaining  hours  of  Carl's  visit  passed  quickly 
into  the  land  of  pleasant  memories,  and  we  will  next 
pass  a  half  hour  with  him  in  the  private  office  of  his 
lawyer  friend,  ere  seeing  him  safely  back  to  his  work 
at  Kaloma.  Ralph  Deneen  had  just  entered,  and 
after  the  first  greeting  had  plunged  at  once  into  the 
thick  of  his  reasons  for  wanting  to  see  Uncle  Carl. 
Mr.  Courtright,  being  busily  engaged  in  his  outer 
office,  they  were  alone. 

"You  see,  sir,"  said  Ralph,  "you  have  been  so  very 
kind  to  me,  and  are  so  interested  in  having  me  turn 
out  well,  that  somehow  I  don't  like  to  do  anything  im- 
portant without  letting  you  know  about  it  and  getting 
your  approval.  Now  about  this  position.  Mr.  Cole- 


UNCLE  CARL  393 

man  is  one  of  the  biggest  contractors  in  the  country, 
and  he  often  writes  to  the  head  of  a  college  and  asks 
for  students  who  are  capable,  but  who  would  be  bene- 
fited by  practical  experience,  to  assist  in  his  contract 
work.  He  does  not,  it  is  true,  pay  very  high  wages 
to  them,  but  it  is  in  this  way  that  he  gets  in  touch 
with  men  of  our  profession;  and  when  one  is  com- 
petent and  faithful  he  helps  him  to  work  after  his 
graduation.  So  this  time  the  Prexy  has  recommended 
me.  I  will  have  two  or  three  months'  work  on  the 
bridgework  at  St.  Louis,  and  also  get  some  practical 
building  experience  on  the  large  grain  elevators  that 
Mr.  Coleman  is  building  at  Kansas  City.  This  won't 
interfere  with  my  graduating  next  June,  as  I  shall 
keep  up  with  my  University  work.  But  it  will  be  a 
mighty  help  afterward.  In  fact,  I  know  that  I  can 
make  myself  so  useful  as  to  be  sure  of  work  just  as 
soon  as  I  graduate." 

"No  doubt  the  idea  is  a  good  one,"  said  Carl. 
"While  practice  without  understanding  the  theory 
of  construction  in  large  matters  is  almost  always 
labor  thrown  away,  theory  without  practice  is  also  of 
little  value;  and  I  believe  that  this  practical  applica- 
tion of  what  you  have  learned  will  be  of  decided  ad- 
vantage to  you;  especially  as  your  instructors  have 
reported  very  satisfactory  progress  on  your  part.  I 
am  not  afraid  that  my  young  friend  will  be  overly 
conceited  if  I  tell  you,  Ralph,  that  I  am  proud  of  you 
and  of  what  you  have  accomplished." 

"Thank  you,  sir,"  said  Ralph,  flushing  with  pleas- 
ure; "I  am  glad  that  you  are  pleased  with  me,  for 
then  you  must  be  pleased  with  yourself.  It  was  you 
that  made  a  man  of  me." 

"No,"  said  Carl;  "no  special  credit  to  me  for 
that.  I  merely  helped  to  start  you.  You  did  the 


394  UNCLE  CARL 

growing  yourself.  But  was  that  all  that  you  wanted 
to  see  me  about?" 

"Well,  no,  sir,"  said  the  young  man  hesitatingly. 
"There  is  something  else,  but  on  that  I  am  not  so 
sure  of  your  approbation.  I — I —  But  you  must 
know  it  some  time,  and  I'd  rather  have  your  ap- 
proval now  than  later.  The  fact  is,  I  am  in  love; 
and  she  is  just  the  dearest  girl !  And  now  that  my 
prospects  are  good  I  want  to  become  engaged;  be- 
fore some  other  young  fellow  gets  her,  don't  you 
know?" 

"Well,  Ralph,  this  is  something  of  a  stunner!"  ex- 
claimed Englewood.  "Of  course  you  must  get  mar- 
ried some  time,  that  is  the  only  complete  life  for  any 
man;  but  I  had  not  thought  of  your  doing  so  for 
some  time  yet.  A  man  should  always  be  able  to  give 
his  lady  a  good,  cosy,  comfortable  nest  before  he 
takes  *her  from  home.  But  then,  all  you  ask  for  now 
is  an  engagement;  and  if  the  young  lady  and  her 
parents  are  willing  I  have  no  objection,  for  I  am  sure 
that  you  would  make  no  unworthy  choice.  Do  I 
know  the  happy  girl?" 

"Yes,  sir,"  said  Ralph,  "I  should  rather  think  that 
you  do.  It's  Hattie  Braton ;  and  I  think  that  you'll 
agree  that  she's  just  about  the  dearest,  sweetest  girl 
in  the  world." 

"Hattie  Braton!"  Ralph's  eyes  were  turned 
toward  the  window  and  he  did  not  see  the  start,  and 
then  the  tightening  of  the  lips  as  Carl  repeated  the 
name,  and  then  in  a  lower  voice  said,  "Yes,  Miss 
Braton  is  a  most  charming  young  lady.  But,  Ralph, 
are  you  sure  that  she  cares  for  you  in  that  way?" 

"Well,  sir,"  replied  Ralph,  "she  has  never  said  so, 
and  I  haven't  asked  her,  because  I  wanted  your  con- 
sent first.  But  I  have  seen  enough  to  make  me  think 


UNCLE  CARL  395 

that  she  does  care  a  little  for  me;  and  I  want  your 
good  word  to  back  me  up,  if  you  think  that  I  am 
worthy  of  her." 

"No  man  is  worthy  of  her,  Ralph,"  said  Carl. 
"No  man  that  I  have  ever  known  is  worthy  to  touch 
the  garment  of  a  pure  woman.  We  are  all  of  us 
coarse  in  comparison  with  her;  but  I  know  of  no  one 
who  comes  nearer  being  worthy  of  my  little  flower 
than  you,  Ralph." 

Poor  Englewood !  Another  bitter  draught  for  you 
to  swallow.  The  hopes  that  you  had  had  that,  at 
last,  you  could  see  a  home-light  shining  for  you  alone, 
are  dashed  against  the  hard  heart  of  Fate;  and  again 
the  lonely  man  must  drift  companionless  upon  the 
great  sea  of  life.  Englewood  did  not  realize  how 
deeply  his  heart  had  been  involved  until  Ralph's 
abrupt  disclosure.  But  now  the  realization  was  em- 
phatic. He  loved  her,  deeply,  purely,  strongly;  and 
now,  for  he  could  not  doubt  but  that  Miss  Braton 
would  choose  the  younger  man,  he  would  place  her 
image,  too,  in  that  sacred  niche  in  his  heart,  side  by 
side  with  Irene's  dear  memory.  For  a  few  moments 
he  sat  silent,  while  Ralph,  evidently  intent  upon  his 
own  pleasant  prospects,  absent-mindedly  toyed  with 
the  leaves  of  a  book  that  lay  upon  the  desk.  Finally, 
with  a  heavy  sigh,  Carl  spoke. 

"Yes,  Ralph,  I'll  back  you  up.  I  think  that  if  she 
loves  you  you  will  make  her  happy,  and  you  may  say 
to  her  that  old  Uncle  Carl  gives  his  full  approval  to 
your  engagement.  And,  my  boy,"  he  rose  abruptly 
and  seized  Ralph's  hand,  "never  dare  to  cause  her  a 
single  tear  of  sorrow  or  regret.  Model  your  home- 
life  on  that  of  Courtright's  and  you  will  be  as  happy 
as  man  can  be.  Bless  you  both !" 

He  turned  and  strode  into  the  outer  office,  where 


396  UNCLE  CARL 

though  it  still  lacked  an  hour  of  time  to  start  for  the 
boat,  he  seized  his  suit-case,  and  with  a  hasty  good- 
by  to  Courtright  and  a  muttered  hint  about  an 
errand  to  do  before  he  went  to  the  wharf,  he  strode 
out  of  the  building. 

That  night  a  man  paced  nervously  back  and  forth 
on  the  deck  of  a  trans-Michigan  steamer.  A  damp 
snow  was  falling,  and  clung  to  the  wood  work  in 
heavy  masses,  and  wet  with  its  cold  clammy  touch  the 
face  and  clothing  of  the  solitary  person,  who  would 
pause  for  a  moment  at  the  rail  and  watch  where,  in 
the  light  from  the  boat's  lamps,  the  water  surged  and 
swirled  in  forbidding  black  oiliness;  and  listened  to 
the  ceaseless  hiss  of  the  disturbed  monster  as  the 
ship's  prow  cut  its  way  through ;  and  then  turned  to 
resume  his  walk  up  and  down  the  slushy  deck. 
Lonely,  forlorn,  heart-sick!  "Oh,  Irene!"  he  mut- 
tered, and  looked  upward  where  the  dark  clouds 
scudded  across  the  heavens.  "If  my  work  was  only 
finished ;  if  your  Master  would  only  say,  'Well  done,' 
and  call  me  to  the  gate!  I  am  weary,  dear  one." 
But  the  rising  wind  moaning  about  the  boat,  and  in 
the  distance  a  gleaming  eye  from  a  sister  ship,  seemed 
to  mock  and  accentuate  his  loneliness.  He  sighed. 
"I  must  work  on  and  on  and  on,  all  alone.  And  yet, 
there  is  a  satisfaction  in  helping  others  a  little.  If 
those  two  youngsters  who  seem  to  be  made  for  each 
other  are  happy,  what  matters  it  that  I,  who  have 
been  blessed  in  that  I  was  able  to  help  them  on,  am 
left  alone.  Their  love  should  be  enough  to  warm 
my  cold  isolation;  and  mayhap,  in  the  future,  there 
shall  be  a  comfortable  arm-chair  by  their  fire-side  for 
me,  and  other  little  children  shall  cluster  around  with 
their  loving  little  ways,  to  listen  to  old  Uncle  Carl's 
stories.  On,  I  have  much  to  be  grateful  for.  Much, 


UNCLE  CARL  397 

much!  The  only  thing  I  lack  is  that  which  I  want 
the  most.  But  this  will  never  do,  you  old  grumbler — 
turn  in,  turn  in,  and  get  a  good  night's  rest,"  and  he 
turned  abruptly  about  and  entered  his  stateroom.  As 
he  raised  the  window-shade  before  lying  down,  he 
paused  to  look  out  over  the  waters.  At  that  moment 
the  clouds  parted,  and  he  saw  glimmering  and 
twinkling  beyond  them  "their  star."  He  reached  out 
his  hand  as  in  salutation :  "I  am  not  alone,  for  your 
dear  memory  is  with  me,  Irene,  my  pearl."  And  then 
he  lay  down  and  slept. 


CHAPTER  XXXIV 

Again  Carl  Englewood  took  up  his  round  of 
duties.  Though  as  earnest,  as  pains-taking,  as  faith- 
ful as  ever,  he  lacked  somewhat  of  his  old  spirit. 
"Getting  old,"  he  thought.  "Perhaps  a  little  tired 
and  ambitionless."  As  the  months  rolled  by  his  face 
took  on  an  additional  line  or  two  of  care,  and  his  eyes 
were  perhaps  a  little  more  expressive  of  thoughtful 
sadness;  but  he  did  his  work  with  the  same  earnest- 
ness and  fidelity  as  ever.  He  had  declined  the  press- 
ing invitations  of  his  Chicago  friends  to  pass  the 
Christmas  holidays  with  them,  and  had  remained 
quietly  in  Kaloma.  Christmas  was  always  a  some- 
what sad  day  for  him,  being  the  anniversary  of  the 
burial  of  Irene  Denton.  And  this  year  it  seemed  ex- 
ceptionally sad,  for  he  had  no  doubt  as  to  the  success 
of  Ralph's  suit;  and  the  denial  of  his  own  half- 
formed  plans,  the  failure  of  his  hope  that  some  time 
he  might  find  in  Hattie  Braton  a  companion  for  a 
cosy  little  home  of  his  own,  had  added  materially  to 
his  loneliness.  He  wondered  a  little  that  none  of 
them  had  sent  him  word  of  the  engagement.  But  he 
was  in  the  habit  of  believing  that  each  person  knew 
his  own  affairs  best,  and  doubtless  there  was  suffi- 
ciently good  reason  for  their  silence.  Perhaps  the 
young  people  wished  to  keep  it  secret  for  a  while; 
and  Ralph,  he  knew,  had  gone  to  St.  Louis  to  fill  the 
position  offered  him. 

There  was  a  strange  feature  of  Englewood's  char- 
acter. While  he  could  clearly  see  the  rights  of  others, 
and  would  resent  neglect  or  thoughtlessness  where 
others  were  concerned,  he  seemed  to  not  even  see, 


UNCLE  CARL  399 

and  certainly  he  never  resented,  like  discourtesies 
toward  himself.  He  seemed  to  feel  as  if  he  received 
all  that  he  deserved  even  if  not  all  that  he  desired; 
and  would  overlook,  without  question  as  to  the  good 
will  of  others,  all  short-comings  toward  himself  that 
were  not  radically  wrong  in  principle.  In  fact,  he 
was  one  of  the  few  men  who  are  not  spoiled  by  flat- 
tery ;  one  of  the  few  who  do  not  become  more  or  less 
conceited  if  a  few  compliments  are  paid  them,  and 
think  that  they  are  of  greater  worth  than  their  actions 
warrant.  And  so,  Carl  did  not  feel  neglect  at  the 
course  of  the  young  people,  knowing  that  he  would 
hear  all  about  it  in  their  own  good  time.  Still,  he  did 
not  like  just  at  this  time  to  meet  with  Hattie,  in  those 
home-surroundings  that  would  so  forcibly  remind 
him  of  the  happiness  beyond  his  reach.  He  therefore 
sent  a  package  of  remembrances  to  the  Courtright 
home,  and  himself  received  greetings  from  them  all, 
otherwise  passing  his  Christmas  holidays  much  as  he 
passed  other  seasons.  But  his  life  was  a  busy  one  in 
spite  of  his  lack  of  ambition.  Aside  from  his  regu- 
lar work,  his  duties  as  representative  filled  his  hours 
to  the  brim ;  and  he  had  but  little  time  for  brooding. 
As  the  spring  months  drew  near,  Laura  Brentford 
and  her  mother  returned  to  Kaloma  for  a  few  days' 
vacation;  during  which  that  young  lady  announced 
her  desire  to  not  return  to  her  studies  for  the  bal- 
ance of  the  year.  She  argued,  "If  I  can  stay  here 
and  get  up  a  class  in  music,  I  will  get  a  practical  ex- 
perience in  my  studies  that  will  enable  me  to  eani  a 
higher  standing  than  I  could  if  I  continued  as  I  am 
now;  and  if  you  are  willing,  Uncle  Carl,  I  would 
much  rather  do  it  that  way,  returning  next  year  to 
finish  the  course  of  study";  and  Englewood  had 
agreed,  saying,  "I  know  so  little  about  music,  that  I 


400  UNCLE  CARL 

cannot  judge  for  you.  If  your  instructors  think  it 
advisable,  it  is  all  right.  All  I  am  after  is  to  do  the 
best  for  you;  but  what  that  best  is  you  and  your 
teacher  can  tell  better  than  I  can."  And  so  it  was 
arranged;  and  Carl  forthwith  established  the 
youngster  in  Kaloma,  furnishing  her  with  a  piano  and 
other  accessories  for  studio  work ;  to  say  nothing  of 
many  little  luxuries  and  comforts  to  make  her  happy 
and  contented,  and  in  which  her  mother  shared.  And 
by  his  influence  he  also  secured  for  her  a  goodly 
class  of  pupils,  thus  establishing  her  on  ^an  inde- 
pendent basis.  While  Englewood's  object  was 
worthy  in  all  that  he  did  for  this  little  girl,  we  are  of 
the  opinion  that  he  rather  overdid  it;  that  a  less 
liberal  outlay  would  have  accomplished  better  results. 
To  make  it  necessary  for  her  to  work  for  the  means 
to  start,  rather  than  to  at  once  establish  her  on  an 
independent  footing  by  gifts,  would,  we  apprehend, 
have  given  the  girl  a  truer  appreciation  of  what  she 
received;  and  might  have  added  strength  to  a  rather 
weak  character.  However,  the  young  lady  received 
all  that  Carl  provided  for  her,  not  without  thanking 
him,  it  is  true,  but  for  all  that,  with  an  apparent 
blindness  to  the  real  meaning  of  it  all — a  seeming  be- 
lief that  she  was  entitled,  as  a  matter  of  course,  to 
whatever  of  good  came  to  her.  She  seemed  to  feel 
that  she  had  rather  a  proprietary  interest  in  her  gen- 
erous friend,  and  failed  altogether  to  realize  his  self- 
denial,  his  sacrifice  of  his  own  comfort,  and  his 
earnest  desire  to  help  her  to  build  up  a  strong,  worthy 
character,  rather  than  to  live  an  easy,  luxurious  life. 
And  thus,  in  the  midst  of  his  multitude  of  cares,  he 
established  her  in  the  way  she  had  chosen,  without 
questioning  her  fidelity;  though  not  yet  had  she  re- 


UNCLE  CARL  401 

sponded  as  he  wished  to  the  test  of  the  "cloak"  she 
was  to  buy  for  her  schoolmate  long  ago. 

Later,  when  referring  to  his  liberality  to  Laura, 
Mr.  Englewood  said,  "I  had  done  what  I  could  for 
the  little  girl;  I  had  sown  all  of  the  seeds  that  I 
thought  right,  and  there  was  then  nothing  more  to  do 
but  to  be  assured  that  every  opportunity  for  growth 
be  given  her.  If  she  was  what  I  hoped,  the  seed 
would  grow;  for  there  was  nothing  to  hinder.  If 
her  character  was  not  what  I  hoped,  the  seed  would 
die  anyway.  I  simply  chose  to  so  place  her  that,  if 
my  labor  was  to  be  in  vain,  it  would  be  due  to  the  in- 
nate qualities  of  herself  rather  than  to  lack  of  oppor- 
tunity, or  neglect  on  my  part;  while  if  her  life  was  to 
be  a  success,  the  means  at  hand  would  be  sufficient  for 
her  progress  at  the  time." 

Let  us  now  leave  our  friend  to  his  work,  and  re- 
turn to  the  Courtright  home,  whither  Ralph,  with  a 
heart  full  of  love,  and  confident  of  the  success  of 
his  suit,  had  repaired  immediately  after  his  interview 
with  Mr.  Englewood.  His  welcome  was  cordial;  for 
all  liked  the  manly  young  fellow.  But  Mrs.  Court- 
right  sighed  as  she  went  about  her  housework;  for 
with  a  women's  intuition  she  divined  the  purpose  of 
his  visit  at  this  time.  But  that  lady  was  fair,  and 
while  it  was  the  wish  of  her  heart  that  the  older  friend 
should  be  blessed  with  a  happy  home,  she  in  no  way 
sought  to  influence  Hattie,  nor  did  she  do  aught  to 
interfere  with  Ralph's  purpose. 

It  was  in  the  afternoon  of  the  following  Sabbath, 

and  Ralph  and  Hattie  were  sitting  beside  the  library 

hearth.     The  young  man  had,  in  spite  of  a  protest 

from  the  girl,  told  her  of  his  earnest  love,  of  his 

26 


402  UNCLE  CARL 

hopes,  his  prospects,  and  of  Uncle  Carl's  approval  of 
his  suit. 

"Oh,  Ralph,  I  am  so  sorry,"  Hattie  said.  "I  have 
never  thought  of  you  in  that  way.  What  you  ask  I 
cannot  grant ;  for  I  do  not  love  you — at  least,  not  as 
you  wish." 

"But  if  you  love  me  at  all,  be  it  ever  so  little," 
pleaded  Ralph,  "that  is  all  I  ask  now ;  for  it  would 
grow — I  am  sure  that  I  could  make  it  grow ;  and  you 
do  care  for  me  a  little,  don't  you?" 

"Yes,  Ralph,"  she  answered,  "I  do  care  for  you ; 
I  love  you ;  but  only  as  a  very,  very  dear  friend.  I 
can  never  be  your  wife.  Never." 

"But,  Hattie,"  persisted  Ralph,  "may  I  not  hope? 
Surely  there  is  no  other  to  come  between  us,  is  there? 
And  if  only  you  will  give  me  hope,  there  is  nothing 
that  I  would  not  do  to  win  your  love.  Nothing  that 
is  honorable,  I  mean.  And,  little  girl,  let  me  plead, 
too,  in  Uncle  Carl's  name.  He  approved.  And  I  am 
sure  he  would  not  do  that  if  it  were  not  right  in  every 
way." 

"Oh,  Uncle  Carl !"  said  Hattie,  and  a  flush  passed 
over  her  face.  "The  best  of  God's  noblemen;  not 
even  for  him  would  I  give  my  hand  to  another." 

"Another,"  said  Ralph,  startled  at  the  suggestion ; 
"is  there  then  another?  I  have  no  other  right  to  ask 
it,  Hattie,  than  the  right  given  by  my  own  great  love. 
Tell  me,  is  there  another  to  whom  you  have  given 
your  heart?" 

But  the  girl  bowed  her  head  and  gazed  wistfully  at 
the  coals  without  replying. 

"Can  you  not  tell  me?"  insisted  he,  after  a  pause. 
"If  it  is  so,  I  am  sure  that  I — I  wish  him  great — joy. 
But  if  it  is  not  so,  then  I  may  hope,  I  shall  hope  to 


UNCLE  CARL  403 

win  yet.  And  Uncle  Carl  will  back  me  up  too;  he 
said  he  would." 

"Hush,  Ralph,  hush !"  said  Hattie,  suddenly 
arousing  herself.  "Don't  use  his  name  so;  please 
don't.  It  hurts,  Ralph.  There  is  no  hope  for  you." 

"Then  there  must  be  some  other.  May  I  know 
who  it  is?"  said  Ralph. 

"No  other  has  asked  me  for  what  you  have, 
Ralph,"  said  the  girl. 

"But  you  love?"  said  he. 

"The  best,  noblest  man  in  the  world,"  said  Hattie, 
turning  suddenly  with  cheeks  aflame;  "and  I  am 
proud  of  it,  Ralph,  though  I  love  unsought." 

"The  noblest  man  in  the  world,"  echoed  poor 
Ralph,  a  light  slowly  breaking,  "Why,  Hattie,  there 
is  only  one  such  for  us.  It  is  not,  it  cannot — but,  oh, 
little  girl,  tell  me  true;  is  it  Uncle  Carl?" 

Hattie  turned  again  to  the  fire,  and  after  a  pause 
said,  "Ralph,  dear  friend,  you  have  some  right  to 
know,  for  you  have  paid  me  the  highest  compliment 
that  a  true  man  can  give  to  woman ;  and  your  affec- 
tion demands  the  only  return  I  can  make — confidence. 
I  have  untold  confidence  in  you  and  in  your  honor, 
and  I  know  that  what  I  tell  you  will  never  be  men- 
tioned by  you.  I  do  love  Mr.  Englewood,  with  my 
whole  heart  and  soul.  To  me  he  is  the  very  ideal  of 
manhood.  A  saint,  if  there  ever  was  one  in  human 
form ;  but  I  have  no  hope  in  that  love.  He  has  never 
sought  me  in  that  way ;  he  never  will ;  for  to  him  I 
am  only  a  child  that  he  had  pity  upon  and  lifted  from 
the  mire.  A  man  such  as  he  would  never  think  of  me 
in  that  way,  if  indeed  his  great  heart  could  single  out 
any  one  woman  for  his  wife.  I  have  no  hope  that  he 
will  ever  love  me  in  that  way;  I  do  not  ask  it.  But 


404  UNCLE  CARL 

to  him  I  yield  all  of  my  heart,  and  thank  God  that 
it  is  permitted  me  to  have  such  a  friend. 

"This  is  a  strange  confession  for  a  girl  to  make, 
Ralph ;  but  I  make  it  to  you  that  you  may  know  how 
hopeless  your  own  suit  is.  For,  loving  the  best  man 
on  earth,  I  could  never  give  myself  to  a  lesser  man ; 
and  you  know  that  not  you,  nor  any  one  else,  can 
come  near  his  stature  of  manhood.  You  and  I, 
Ralph,  are  good  friends;  let  us  remain  so,  will  you 
not;  and  respect  my  confidence  in  you?" 

The  poor  fellow  had  bowed  his  head  upon  his 
hand  as  Hattie  made  her  confession,  and  he  gulped 
down  a  sob  as  she  ceased.  There  was  silence  for 
some  minutes  ere  he  rose  from  his  chair,  and  throw- 
ing back  his  head  and  squaring  his  shoulders  with  a 
determined  air  said,  reaching  down  and  taking  her 
hand,  "Hattie,  I  would  fight  to  the  death  to  win  what 
you  have,  unasked,  given  to  my  best  friend.  But  I 
do  not  blame  you,  for  he  is  indeed  one  man  in  a  mil- 
lion. Were  it  any  one  else  I  should  still  strive.  But 
he  has  done  so  much,  sacrificed  so  much,  and  through 
all  has  been  such  a  noble,  pure  man  and  faithful 
friend  to  us  all,  that  I  would  not  take  from  him  a 
single  flower  of  joy,  if  I  could.  He  it  was  that  taught 
me  to  be  a  man.  But  for  him  I  would  have  been  of 
the  scum  of  the  earth,  instead  of  being  considered 
worthy  to  clasp  this  dear  hand;  and  now,  I  too  can 
make  a  sacrifice  for  his  sake,  and  yield  you  willingly 
to  him.  For  I  know  that,  when  he  learns  of  your 
feeling  for  him,  there  shall  be  no  question  of  your 
union." 

"Oh,  Ralph!"  said  Hattie,  "that  must  never  be. 
You  must  never  say  one  word  of  what  I  have  told 
you  to  any  living  person.  I  would  be  mortified  to 
death.  I  trusted  you,  Ralph." 


UNCLE  CARL  405 

"And  I  shall  be  faithful  to  the  trust,"  said  Ralph. 
"But  I  know  that  Fate  will  not  long  allow  two  such 
hearts,  made  for  each  other,  to  remain  apart;  and  in 
that  belief  I  see  my  own  hopes  die." 

"Poor  boy!"  said  Hattie,  rising,  "I  wish  for  your 
sake  it  could  be  otherwise." 

"And  so  do  I,"  said  he.  "But  as  it  cannot  be,  only 
remember,  little  girl,  that  I  prize  your  friendship 
more  than  I  do  the  love  of  any  other  woman  on  earth. 
In  that  friendship  I  am  not  without  some  comfort. 
And  now,  you  will  excuse  me  if  I  go  out  for  a  walk, 
will  you  not?  I  must  adjust  myself  to  the  changed 
conditions  if  I  can,  before  meeting  the  rest  of  the 
family."  ^ 

So  saying,  he  strode  but  of  the  room,  leaving 
Hattie  standing  before  the  coals. 

"Ralph  is  a  grand,  good  boy,"  she  mused.  "He 
has  a  heart  of  gold  that  some  good  woman  will  yet 
make  happy.  Oh !  that  that  other  lonely,  sorrowful 
heart  could  also  be  happy;  even  if  it  should  take  him 
away  from  us.  He  deserves  the  best  woman  in  the 
world ;  but  not  for  me  is  his  love,  in  spite  of  Ralph's 
'Fate.'  '  Brushing  away  a  tear,  the  girl,  with  a  little 
sigh,  joined  the  family  in  the  living-room.  Ralph  re- 
turned the  next  day  to  the  city,  and  soon  after  joined 
his  co-workers  at  St.  Louis.  Before  going,  he  called 
at  Mr.  Courtright's  office,  and  asked  him  to  tell  Mr. 
Englewood  that  "he  had  not  been  able  to  accomplish 
the  plan  they  had  discussed  at  their  last  meeting." 
But  Mr.  Courtright,  thinking  it  something  connected 
with  the  young  man's  studies,  and  of  no  particular 
importance,  did  not  charge  his  mind  with  the  mes- 
sage; and  before  communicating  with  Englewood 
again  it  was  forgotten.  And  so  our  friend  was  left 
in  ignorance  of  the  unhappy  ending  of  Ralph's 
hopes. 


CHAPTER  XXXV 

It  is  a  night  in  May.  One  of  those  quiet,  fragrant 
nights,  when  the  air,  pregnant  with  the  fresh  odors 
of  awakening  nature,  fills  the  lungs  with  refreshing 
strength;  and  the  first  faint  sounds  of  sentient  life 
proclaim  the  full  chorus  of  joyful  existence  soon  to 
follow.  The  graceful  crescent  of  the  new  moon 
sheds  a  subdued  light  over  the  city;  and  the  cheery 
laughter  and  sauntering  footsteps  proclaim  the 
people's  appreciation  of  the  balmy  air  of  spring;  but 
out  of  touch  with  such  "silly  sentiment,"  morbidly, 
angrily  cursing  at  his  position  and  the  current  of 
adverse  advents  that  had  placed  him  there,  Jack  Stan- 
hope closed  his  open  window  with  an  impatient  bang, 
drew  down  the  curtain,  and  resumed  his  uneasy  walk 
to  and  fro. 

"I'm  in  a  devilishly  tight  hole,"  he  muttered.  "But 
if  I  can  only  hold  out  until  fall,  I'll  come  out  ahead 
of  that  sanctimonious  whelp  yet.  Once  get  old 
Cramer's  estate  in  my  hands  and  I'll  fix  his  meat  for 
him.  Damn  him  !  His  cursed  luck  balks  me  at  every 
turn.  Who  would  have  thought  that  such  a  mare's- 
nest  could  be  stirred  up  out  of  that  exposure  of  his 
stealing.  Oh,  well!  the  cards  must  run  my  way 
some  time.  But  the  very  devil  is  in  it  now ;  and  if  I 
don't  find  some  way  to  raise  the  wind  and  take  up 
my  outstanding  paper,  I'll  be  sold  up  bag  and  bag- 
gage. Curse  the  luck;  and  double-dyed  curses  on 
Englewood!" 

Thus  angrily  hurling  anathemas  at  all  that  had 
contributed  to  his  failure,  he  nervously  paced  the 
floor,  until,  with  a  rap  on  the  door,  and  then  without 


UNCLE  CARL  407 

waiting  for  it  to  be  opened,  a  figure  slouched  into  the 
room.  Stanhope  stared  in  amazement,  and  then  as 
he  recognized  his  visitor  uttered  another  curse. 

"Jenkins!"  he  exclaimed.  "What  in  the  name  of 
the  imps  of  hell  are  you  doing  here ;  and  where  have 
you  been  all  these  years  ?'  ' 

"Ruther  a  cordyal  greetin'  to  give  a  feller  thet 
ye  hevn't  seen  fer  so  long,  hain't  it,  my  dear  friend?" 
said  that  worthy  as  he  spat  viciously  on  the  carpet. 

"Cordial,  you  devil,"  said  Stanhope,  "I  hoped  that 
you  were  dead  long  ago!  Well,  and  what  do  you 
want?" 

"Money,"  was  the  laconic  answer. 

"Money,  eh?"  said  Stanhope.  "Well,  you  don't 
get  it,  see.  I'm  strapped;  and  if  I  wasn't,  you  made 
such  a  mess  of  things  that  I  wouldn't  give  it  to  you 
if  I  had  it.  Why  didn't  you  shut  up  Liz's  mouth  in- 
stead of  letting  her  go  down  there  and  raise  particu- 
lar hell  with  our  plans;  and  what  have  you  been  up 
to  since?" 

"Oh,  come  now,  pal,"  said  Jenkins;  "none  of  your 
pleadin'  poverty  to  me.  I  know  you  all  right,  all 
right.  But  as  to  Liz,  why  she  got  down  there  before 
I  cud  ketch  her.  I  went  straight  to  St.  Lou,  'nd 
found  she'd  gone,  'nd  I  tuk  the  furst  train  'nd  fol- 
lered  her.  'Nd  then  when  I  ketched  up  with  her,  I 
fixed  the  goose  all  right,  but  I  saw — a — a —  But 
you'd  never  believe  me,  so  whut's  the  use  of  tellin' 
yer?  What  I  want  now  is  the  rocks,  see;  and," 
striking  the  table  a  blow  with  his  fist,  "thet's  what 
I've  came  fur,  'nd  thet's  what  I'm  goin'  to  git  before 
I  leave  here." 

"Nonsense !"  said  Stanhope.  "You  can't  get  blood 
out  of  a  turnip.  I'm  strapped,  I  tell  you.  But  what 
was  it  you  saw?" 


4o8  UNCLE  CARL 

"Ez  to  the  'blood,'  Mister  Stanhope,"  said  Jen- 
kins, "I  don't  know  about  turnips,  but  by  G — d! 
ef  I  don't  git  the  money  I'll  git  blood  out  of  you; 
mind  whut  I'm  tellin'  yeh.  But  I  don't  mind  tellin' 
yuh  whut  I  seen.  I  wuz  talkin'  to  Liz  on  the  beach 
'nd  had  got  the  gurl  to  thinkin'  jest  ez  she'd  orter 
think,  when  I  looked  up  'nd  I  seen  a  ghost.  Thet's 
what  I  seen.  Thet  cursed  Englewood's  ghost.  'Nd 
I  skeedaddled  out  uv  thet  neighborhood  quicker'n 
hell,  I  tell  yeh !  'Nd  'fore  I  knowed  it  I'd  fell  in  the 
drink.  'Nd  when  I  came  to  I  found  thet  a  boat  hed 
fished  me  out  'nd  I  wus  aboard  'nd  bound  fer  South 
Ameriky  on  a  tradin'  cruise.  'Nd  I  didn't  hev  a 
chanst  to  git  back  until  now.  When  I  did  git  the 
chanst  you  bet  yer  sweet  life  I  made  a  bee-line  fer 
this  here  ranch,  to  git  the  money  whut's  comin'  to 
me.  'Nd  I'm  goin'  to  git  it  too,  see?" 

Stanhope  looked  scornfully  at  his  partner  in  crime. 

"A  ghost!"  he  sneered;  "Englewood's  ghost!  1 
would  to  G — d  you  had  seen  it,  but  you  didn't. 
Englewood  is  alive  and  well,  and  it  was  he  himself 
that  you  saw  down  there,  where  he  went  to  spoil  our 
game.  If  you  had  been  half  a  man  you  would  have 
stood  your  ground  and  wiped  the  whelp  out  of  exist- 
ence." 

"You  lie,  Stanhope !"  said  Jenkins;  "I  know  it  was 
his  ghost,  fer  I  killed  him  myself.  There!  it's  out, 
'nd  I  don't  keer  if  you  do  know  it.  This  is  only  one 
of  yer  tricks  to  git  out  of  payin'  me  the  money." 

"No  trick  about  it,  Jenkins,"  returned  Stanhope. 
"Englewood  didn't  fall  down  that  shaft.  He 
caught  hold  of  the  top  of  the  cage,  and  was  hauled 
up  safe  and  sound.  I  tell  you  he  is  alive  and  in  this 
city  now,  and  I  have  no  doubt  that  he  would  be 
mighty  glad  to  know  that  you  are  here,  too." 


UNCLE  CARL  409 

"Are  you  sure  of  that,  Stanhope?"  asked  Jenkins 
soberly.  "Are  you  lyin'  or  tellin'  the  truth?" 

"The  truth,  as  sure  as  I  stand  here,"  asserted 
Stanhope. 

"Then,"  said  Jenkins,  "thet's  so  much  more  reason 
thet  I  git  thet  money  to  wunst.  I'll  hev  to  clear  out 
uv  here  immegiate.  You've  got  to  fork  over  a  cool 
thousand,  'nd  do  it  d n  quick,  too." 

"But  I  haven't  got  it;  and  I  can't  get  it,"  said 
Stanhope.  "I'm  strapped,  I  tell  you." 

"I  don't  believe  it,"  said  Jenkins.  "Once  for  all 
now,  curse  ye  !  Wull  ye  give  me  the  money?" 

"No,  Jenkins,"  said  the  villain;  "I  can't  and  I 
won't." 

"Think  twice,"  said  the  scoundrel.  "You'd  better. 
You  fork  over  or  it's  to  hell  with  you !  We're  alone 
here  now,  'nd  my  blood's  up,"  and  he  drew  a  knife 
from  his  breast. 

"So  that's  your  game,  is  it?"  said  Stanhope,  draw- 
ing a  revolver  from  his  pocket.  "Then  if  it's  hell 
for  one  of  us,  you  will  be  the  one!"  and  he  leveled  the 
weapon  at  Jenkins,  who,  with  a  snarl  of  rage,  rushed 
toward  him,  his  knife  uplifted.  There  was  a  loud  re- 
port, and  with  a  cry  of  pain  Jenkins  stopped  for  an 
instant,  and  then  hurled  himself  onto  his  opponent 
in  a  death  grapple.  Stanhope,  dropping  his  weapon, 
seized  with  one  hand  the  man's  wrist,  that  he  might 
not  use  his  knife,  and  with  the  other  sought  his  an- 
tagonist's throat.  But  Jenkins  managed  to  trip  him, 
and  they  fell  together,  rolling  over  and  over  on  the 
floor;  the  one  striving  to  use,  the  other  to  prevent 
the  use,  of  the  blade.  It  soon  became  evident  to 
Stanhope  that  his  enemy  was  weakening.  Indeed,  as 
was  later  shown,  he  had  received  a  fatal  wound,  and 
it  was  but  a  few  moments  ere,  with  a  final  desperate 


4io  UNCLE  CARL 

effort  to  accomplish  his  purpose,  he  ceased  his  strug- 
gles, and  with  a  gasp  rolled  over  on  the  floor  an  inert, 
tenantless  body. 

As  Stanhope  rose  it  was  to  face  a  horror-stricken 
group  that,  startled  by  the  report  of  the  pistol,  had 
hastily  summoned  an  officer,  and  reached  the  door  in 
time  to  witness  the  last  struggle  of  the  contestants. 

That  night  John  Stanhope  passed  behind  prison 
bars. 


CHAPTER  XXXVI 

A  month  later  Mr.  Courtright  called  at  Carl 
Englewood's  office  to  tell  him  that  his  family  were 
once  more  settled  in  their  summer  home,  and  to  urge 
him  to  renew  the  previous  summer's  association  with 
them.  He  found  his  friend  in  an  unusually  down- 
cast mood,  from  which  it  was  in  vain  that  he  tried  to 
arouse  him.  Though  Courtright  had  learned  of  Stan- 
hope's predicament,  he  did  not,  until  Englewood  ex- 
plained the  details,  attribute  his  "fit  of  the  blues"  to 
that.  But  so  it  was.  When  Mr.  Englewood  learn- 
ed of  the  crime  in  the  next  morning's  paper,  he  had  at 
once  hastened  to  the  morgue  and  indentified  the  dead 
body  as  that  of  the  man  he  had  so  long  sought;  and 
with  his  death  vanished  his  hope  of  finding  the  trail 
that  would  lead  him  to  his  lost  ward  unless,  indeed, 
he  could  induce  the  criminal-in-chief  to  disclose  her 
whereabouts.  He  had,  with  this  end  in  view,  visited 
Stanhope  in  his  cell;  but  only  to  meet  with  revilings 
and  curses.  That  worthy  scoundrel  had  no  infor- 
mation to  give  him.  Indeed,  if  he  had  had  the 
knowledge,  he  would  have  refused  to  reveal  it.  On 
one  of  Carl's  visits,  when  he  had  pleaded  and 
urged,  offering  every  inducement  that  he  could 
to  the  imprisoned  man  to  persuade  him  to  lend 
his  efforts  to  assist  in  righting  the  wrong  even  to 
the  offer  of  bearing  the  expense  of  able  counsel 
in  Stanhope's  forthcoming  trial,  for  he  knew  of 
his  straitened  financial  circumstances,  the  fellow 
had  snarlingly  replied,  "I  want  you  to  under- 
stand,, you  whelp,  that  I  shall  not  help  you  an  iota 
in  the  matter.  What  I  know,  I  know;  but  even  if 


4i2  UNCLE  CARL 

I  could  produce  the  girl  at  an  hour's  notice,  you 
haven't  money  enough  to  tempt  me  to  do  it.  Cursed 
meddler  that  you  are,  I'll  win  yet  and  give  you  the 
taste  of  hell  that  you  have  tried  to  give  me.  I  can 
never  be  convicted  of  this  crime.  It  was  a  clear  case 
of  self-defense.  And  I'll  be  out  of  here  in  time  to 
get  old  Cramer's  property  in  the  fall.  So  it's  up  to 
you  to  clear  out  of  here  and  be  damned  to  you !" 

And  Carl  had  returned  sorrowfully  to  his  rooms; 
blaming  himself  more  than  ever  that  he  had  proved 
to  be  such  a  failure  in  carrying  out  the  sacred  trust 
of  his  old  friend,  and  without  hope  that  he  could  now 
right  the  wrong  done  to  his  ward,  though  determined 
to  still  exert  every  possible  effort  to  that  end. 

He  had  received,  as  Mr.  Courtright  had  predicted, 
a  handsome  sum  as  first  dividend  on  the  stock  left 
to  him  by  Stuart;  and  this  he  had  placed  at  the  dis- 
posal of  the  detective  bureau  to  continue  the  search. 
While  his  lawyer  friend  regretted  this,  believing  that 
further  outlay  was  useless,  he  yet  sympathized  with 
the  feeling  that  prompted  it,  and  forebore  to  express 
his  disapproval.  But  all  efforts  at  arousing  Engle- 
wood  from  his  despondency  were  futile;  and  it  was 
without  enthusiasm  that  assent  was  given  to  the  plans 
for  the  summer." 

"I  presume  that  Miss  Braton  is  with  you,  is  she 
not?"  asked  Englewood. 

"Not  yet,"  was  the  answer.  "She  has  passed  a 
very  busy  winter.  Has  engagements  with  several 
publishing  houses,  and  is  in  great  demand.  But  she 
writes  that  she  will  be  with  us  next  week  for  a  good, 
long,  happy  summer.  She  particularly  inquired 
about  you,  with  the  hope  that  you  would  be  with  us." 

"She  is  a  dear  little  girl,"  said  Englewood,  "and 


UNCLE  CARL  413 

I  shall  like  to  see  her  again.  I  suppose  that  she  and 
Ralph  have  settled  on  their  future,  have  they  not?" 

"She  and  Ralph?"  said  the  lawyer,  "why,  no;  I 
haven't  heard  of  anything  in  that  way.  Why  do 
you  ask." 

"Only  that  Ralph  loves  the  little  girl,"  said  Carl, 
"and  he  expressed  his  desires  to  me  when  he  called  on 
me  at  your  office  last  fall.  I  understood  that  he  in- 
tended to  speak  to  her  then.  I  presume  that  they 
want  to  keep  it  a  secret  for  a  while  though;  these 
young  folks  do  so  love  a  secret." 

"Oh,  ho!  that  accounts  for  it,"  thought  Court- 
right.  "I  thought  that  the  young  fellow  looked 
rather  down  in  the  mouth  when  I  saw  him  last.  He 
proposed  to  the  girl  and  the  dear  little  minx  refused 
him.  Poor  fellow!" 

"That  reminds  me,  old  fellow,"  he  said,  "speaking 
of  Ralph,  he  gave  me  a  message  for  you  when  he 
left  us  to  go  to  St.  Louis;  and  as  I  haven't  seen  you 
since  it  slipped  my  mind  entirely.  He  wanted  me  to 
say  to  you  that  some  plan  or  arrangement  that  he  had 
talked  over  with  you  had  failed,  or  he'd  changed  his 
mind.  Something  like  that.  Of  no  special  import- 
ance, was  it?" 

"Plan  had  failed!"  exclaimed  Englewood.  "And 
that's  the  reason  I  never —  But,  Courtright,  are  you 
sure  that  there  is  no  engagement  between  Ralph  and 
Hattie  Braton?" 

"Morally  sure,  Englewood,"  answered  the  lawyer. 
"I  rather  think  that  we  would  have  heard  of  it  if 
there  was.  To  tell  the  truth, — I'm  only  guessing 
mind  you, — I  don't  believe  the  girl  will  ever  marry. 
The  only  man  suited  to  her  is  such  a  blamed  chump 
that  he  doesn't  dare  to  reach  out  and  take  as  sweet  a 
little  beauty  as  God  ever  made." 


4i4  UNCLE  CARL 

Englewood  showed  the  first  signs  of  real  anima- 
tion that  he  had  in  a  week.  Rising,  he  began  walk- 
ing up  and  down  the  room,  and  finally  coming  to  a 
stand  before  his  friend  and  throwing  back  his  should- 
ers uttered  a  deep  sigh  of — was  it  relief? 

"I'm  sorry  for  the  poor  boy,"  he  said,  "if  it  is  true 
that  Hattie  refused  him.  But  I  am  not  conceited 
enough  to  believe  that  I  am  anything  more  to  her 
than  a  good  friend.  However,  let's  get  to  the  boat. 
It's  about  time,  and  I  am  in  hopes  that  I'll  feel  more 
like  a  man  when  we  get  on  the  water  again.  Heigh, 
ho!  what  a  mixture  of  joy  and  sorrow  this  life  is  any- 
way." 

"It  seems  good  to  have  you  with  us  again,"  said 
Mrs.  Courtright  that  evening.  She  and  Englewood 
had  strolled  down  to  the  little  dock  and  were  watch- 
ing a  boat  race  between  the  children  and  Mr.  Court- 
right. 

"And  I  am  glad  to  be  here  again,"  he  had  answer- 
ed. "It  has  seemed  years  since  I  left  you  all;  and  I 
guess  I  must  be  getting  old,  for  I  haven't  seemed  to 
feel  the  zest  in  life  that  I  should.  Worked  a  little 
too  hard,  perhaps." 

"Something  in  that,  maybe,"  said  the  lady,  resting 
her  hand  lightly  on  his  shoulder  for  a  moment,  "and 
then,  too,  you  have  had  some  heavy  sorrows  with  no 
friends  near  to  help  you  bear  them.  It  seems  to  me 
that  that  is  the  most  blessed  part  of  friendship,  'to 
bear  one  another's  burdens.'  ' 

"It  is  a  blessing,"  said  Carl;  "but  mine  have  been 
such  as  I  could  bear  best  alone,  I  think.  At  least," 
with  a  quiet  smile,  "one  of  them  was." 

"And  how  is  the  little  college-girl  coming  on?" 
asked  Mrs.  Courtright — "little  Laura, — Laura — 
Brentford?  Was  that  her  name?" 


UNCLE  CARL  415 

Carl's  face  became  suddenly  stern.  "Not  well,  not 
well,"  he  said.  "That  was  another  of  my  disap- 
pointments." 

"I'm  sorry  to  hear  that,"  said  the  lady.  "Wasn't 
she  equal  to  the  work?" 

"I  don't  like  to  criticise  her  too  severely,"  said 
Carl,  "for  I  was  perhaps  much  to  blame.  To  use 
one  of  Erickso-n's  favorite  expressions,  I  tried  to 
'make  an  oak  tree  out  of  a  gooseberry  bush.'  And  it 
can't  be  done.  Not  only  did  I  fail  to  make  the  oak 
tree,  but  I  fear  that  I  spoiled  her  from  being  even  a 
good  gooseberry  bush.  I  tried  to  do  too  much.  If 
I  had  only  helped  her  to  make  the  best  of  herself  in 
her  own  sphere,  instead  of  trying  to  lift  her  above 
it,  I  would  perhaps  have  accomplished  some  good; 
but  as  it  is  her  work  seems  to  be  unsuccessful,  and  I 
am  largely  to  blame." 

"Oh,  do  stop  blaming  yourself  for  other  people's 
faults,"  chided  Mrs.  Courtright.  "You  do  your  part 
well ;  but  you  can't  do  it  all.  But  what  is  amiss  with 
the  girl?" 

"She  gave  up  her  college  work  three  months  ago," 
explained  Carl,  "on  the  plea  that  a  little  practical 
experience  in  teaching  would  enable  her  to  go  back 
another  year,  and  secure  better  results  than  she  could 
otherwise.  I  am  so  ignorant  of  musical  matters  that 
I  could  not  judge  what  was  best,  and  left  the  decision 
to  her  and  iher  instructors.  The  result  was  that  she 
established  herself  in  Kaloma  at  considerable  ex- 
pense and  was — " 

"And  you  paid  the  bills,"  interjected  Mrs.  Court- 
right.  "I  know  you." 

— on  a  prosperous  footing,  as  I  supposed,"  con- 
tinued Englewood,  ignoring  the  interruption.  "A 
short  time  ago  she  came  to  me  with  a  request  for  a 


4i6  UNCLE  CARL 

small  loan,  which  she  would  return  in  a  week  or  so. 
Without  question  I  gave  it  to  her,  and  the  next  I 
knew  of  her  affairs  was  when,  a  week  later,  I  received 
a  short  note  from  her  from  the  West  telling  me  that 
she  was  tired  of  all  that  I  was  doing  for  her,  and 
would  bear  it  no  longer.  It  was  a  shock,  I  can  tell 

you ;  but  not  a  greater  one  than  to  learn  from  V 

that  I  had  been  greatly  misinformed  as  to  her  ability 
and  progression  in  her  studies. 

"If  it  were  any  one  else  than  you,  I  would  say 
that  perhaps  she  was  not  without  some  justification," 
said  Mrs.  Courtright.  "There  are  so  many,  you 
know,  who  are  more  or  less  benevolent,  and  yet  are 
so  officiously  meddlesome  as  to  be  obnoxious.  But 
I  know  that  you  are  not  of  that  kind,  for  I  have  seen 
so  much  of  your  work,  especially  with  Hattie  and 
Ralph." 

"I  know,  I  know,"  said  Carl,  "but  I  hardly  think 
that  it  was  anything  of  that  kind.  I  know  that  it 
was  not.  Every  little  thing  that  I  have  done  for 
Laura  was  received  as  a  matter  of  course,  and  even 
more  was  asked  for  at  times.  Indeed,  up  to  the  time 
of  her  leaving  there  had  not  been  the  first  word  of 
disagreement  or  irritation,  or  suggestion  of  irksome- 
ness  ;  and  her  last  act,  as  I  have  said,  was  to  ask  for 
a  loan.  But  it  is  not  her  giving  it  all  up  that  I  feel, 
so  much  as  the  manner  of  her  doing  it.  She  had 
every  reason  to  know  that  I  would  deny  her  nothing 
in  reason,  that  all  I  sought  was  her  own  happiness; 
and  yet  she  chose  to  leave  without  a  word  to  intimate 
her  intentions,  without  even  saying  good-by.  Just 
simply  seemed  to  think  that  I  had  no  claim  to  her  con- 
sideration, and  that  the  building  that  I  was  trying  to 
help  her  erect  wasn't  worth  considering.  I  must 
simply  drop  the  incomplete  work.  It  was  discourtesy, 


UNCLE  CARL  417 

to  say  the  least,  downright  discourtesy;  and  coming 
without  the  least  warning,  it  hurt  me  deeply.  I  can- 
not feel  that  one  who  has  been  so  remiss  in  such  a 
manifest,  simple  duty,  can  be  at  heart  true  to  any 
one  or  any  cause." 

"Well,  I  hope  that  this  will  be  a  lesson  to  you,  my 
friend,"  said  Mrs.  Courtright  indignantly. 

"I  don't  understand  you,"  said  Carl.  "A  lesson 
in  what?" 

"In  doing  so  much  for  other  people,"  she  replied. 
"Making  yourself  poor  and  working  hard  for  those 
who  have  not  a  particle  of  appreciation." 

"Mrs.  Courtright,  I  am  surprised,"  exclaimed 
Carl,  "that  you  should  suggest  that,  because  this  one 
little  girl  has  proved  to  be  not  a  success,  I  should 
withdraw  from  such  work,  to  'take  it  as  a  lesson.' 
The  world  is  full  of  the  needy  and  worthy.  We  can- 
not always  succeed,  but  I  do  not  think  that  we  should 
cease  striving  just  because  we  cannot  always  cull  the 
flowers  we  desire.  Fie,  fie,  my  friend!  You  don't 
mean  that  at  all." 

"No,  I  don't,"  said  Mrs.  Courtright;  "but  oh,  I 
do  get  so  impatient  sometimes  at  your  doing  so  much, 
and  getting  so  little  in  return." 

"I  get  more  in  return  than  you  have  any  idea  of," 
smiled  Englewood;  "and  I  don't  do  so  much  either. 
You  draw  too  largely  on  your  imagination.  And 
then,  too,  who  shall  say  that  Laura  is  a  failure? 
To  be  sure,  I  hear  of  little  to  her  credit  from  the  West, 
or  to  her  discredit  either  for  that  matter,  and  I  feel 
that  personally  I  do  not  care  to  ever  meet  her  again, 
for  she  has  hurt  me  too  deeply — I  doubt  if  I  could 
ever  trust  her  again.  But  may  it  not  be  that  she 
may  yet,  perhaps  only  through  suffering  and  af- 
fliction, have  her  eyes  opened  to  her  responsibilities, 
27 


4i  8  UNCLE  CARL 

and  with  the  light  that  has  been  given  her,  partly 
through  my  efforts,  yet  develop  into  a  very  creditable 
'gooseberry  bush'?  Not  until  the  'finis'  has  been 
written  to  the  book  can  one  tell  whether  or  not  the 
life  has  been  a  failure." 

"Right;  right,  you  always  are,"  said  Mrs.  Court- 
right.  "But  this  life  is  only  a  chapter  in  existence. 
'Finis'  can  only  be  written  in  eternity,  and,  therefore, 
never.  Tell  me,  friend,  have  your  views  of  religion 
never  changed?  Now  don't  look  sober  again; 
don't  ask  from  curiosity,  but  from  deep  interest.  I 
am  not  very  orthodox  myself,  but  I  do  feel  that  the 
great  hereafter  holds  for  us  a  continued  life." 

"You  know,"  he  replied,  "how  I  dislike  to  discuss 
religion,  save  when  one  is  honestly  looking  for  light; 
and  I  never  argue  the  question  with  those  of  fixed 
belief.  To  you,  however,  I  will  say  that  when  I  have 
studied  hard,  and  have  reached  a  solution  that  seems 
to  me  to  be  correct,  I  do  not  go  back  and  try  to  reach 
a  different  result,  unless  something  occurs  to  lead  me 
to  believe  that  there  was  an  error  in  my  work.  In 
that  case  I  will  go  over  the  ground  again ;  but  unless 
I  feel  that  there  has  been  an  error,  I  prefer  to  devote 
my  time  to  the  solution  of  other  problems,  to  the 
prosecution  of  other  work.  As  a  young  man  I  was 
very  earnest  in  the  study  of  religion,  and  finally 
reached  conclusions  that  I  have  never  had  reason  to 
believe  were  incorrect.  Indeed,  my  experience 
through  the  succeeding  years  has  only  served  to  en- 
trench me  more  strongly  in  them.  I  am,  so  far  as 
my  personality  in  Eternity  is  concerned,  a  confirmed 
agnostic." 

"But  surely  you  believe  in  that  personality,  do  you 
not?"  asked  his  friend. 

"No;  it  is  all  darkness  to  me,"  said  Carl.    "Only 


UNCLE  CARL  4*9 

a  hope  have  I.  Sometimes  strong,  sometimes  weak, 
but  that  hope  is  not  in  the  least  degree  a  monitor  to 
influence  me  in  this  life.  I  believe  first  in  Truth  or 
Law.  That  there  are,  pervading  all  nature,  forces 
at  work,  all  subject  to  a  universal  law,  whose  un- 
changeable purpose  is  the  ultimate  perfection  of  all 
forms  of  life — physical,  moral,  or  spiritual;  and 
that  each  one  of  us  may  contribute  our  mite,  if  we 
will,  toward  hastening  that  ultimate  condition.  I 
care  not  at  all  what  other  people  believe,  but  I  do  care 
mightily  how  they  reach  their  belief.  To  me  abso- 
lute sincerity  is  the  first  duty  of  us  all.  And  if  we 
are  really  sincere;  if  we  search  for  Truth  with  earn- 
estness ;  and  when  we  grasp  a  fragment  of  it  hold  to 
it  tenaciously,  adding  to  it  little  by  little  as  we  gain 
more  light,  there  will  be  no  danger  of  our  going  far 
astray;  for  one  of  the  first  crumbs  of  Truth  that  we 
shall  find  will  be  that  Love  is  the  most  all-pervading 
force  of  Nature — a  universal  Law,  more  potent  than 
the  dogmas,  and  schisms,  and  arbitrary  fiats  of  all  the 
theologians  that  have  ever  lived.  I  do  not  concern 
myself  at  all  about  the  life  hereafter.  It  is  the  life 
here  and  now  that  is  of  moment." 

"But  surely  that  would  be  a  dangerous  propaganda 
to  be  given  to  the  world,  would  it  not?"  suggested 
Mrs.  Courtright.  "While  it  may  be  that  it  serves 
for  you,  yet  the  conscience  of  the  people  is,  it  seems 
to  me,  too  facile  in  counseling  that  what  pleases  self 
is  right,  to  make  it  a  safe  rule  for  the  masses  to  live 
by.  By  destroying  the  religion  of  the  church  would 
you  not  leave  license  to  disport  itself  to  the  great 
injury  of  the  moral  life?" 

"I  do  not  issue  it  as  a  propaganda,  my  dear 
friend,"  smiled  Englewood;  "I  do  not  seek  to  de- 
stroy your  church.  I  do  not  believe  in  laying  aside 


420  UNCLE  CARL 

the  clothing  that  protects  us  from  the  wintry  blasts 
until  the  genial  warmth  of  the  Southern  winds  as- 
sures us  that  we  do  not  longer  need  artificial  covering 
to  keep  us  warm.  And  so,  the  church  accomplishes 
a  great  good,  and  protects  the  moral  life  of  the 
people  from  much  of  the  evil  that  is  in  the  world. 
But  often,  and  more  often  as  the  years  roll  on,  vig- 
orous members  of  the  church  feel  the  warm  winds  of 
Truth  sweeping  up;  and  they  step  forth  from  the 
artificial  shield  made  by  man,  into  a  clearer  knowl- 
edge of  Law.  A  law,  not  of  license,  but  of  love,  of 
brotherhood,  of  divinity  as  it  is  in  each  one  of  us. 
Of  divinity  not  given  to  us  by  an  individual  sentient 
being  whom  the  church  calls  'Creator' ;  but  an  innate 
divinity,  born  with  us,  existing  with  and  in  us;  for 
we  are  ourselves  but  fragments,  atoms,  of  the  Great 
Eternal  Universal  God-head.  As  divinities  we  are 
immortal;  but  whether  we  shall  retain  hereafter  an 
individual  cognizance  of  that  divinity,  or  be  again 
merged  into  the  universal  law,  I  do  not  know;  nor, 
I  believe,  does  any  one  else  know." 

"I  confess  that  I  cannot  follow  you  clearly,"  said 
Mrs.  Courtright.  "Your  philosophy  is  too  deep  for 
me.  But  this  I  do  know.  That  your  creed,  if  it  can 
make  other  men  as  clean  and  upright  as  you,  is  equal 
to  any  church  doctrine  the  world  has  ever  known." 

"Thank  you,"  said  Englewood.  "You  are  per- 
haps prejudiced  in  my  case.  But  I  would  suggest 
this.  The  orthodox  church  is  man-made;  the  visible 
evidence  of  man's  struggle  for  the  light  of  Truth. 
My  philosophy  is  also  the  result  of  that  same  strug- 
gle. Whether  it  is  nearer  the  real  truth  than  the 
church  is,  or  not,  is  a  matter  of  opinion.  Doubtless 
it  is  faulty;  but  any  sincere,  earnest  struggle  for  the 
true  light  must  of  necessity  make  the  straggler  a  bet- 


UNCLE  CARL  421 

ter  man  or  woman,  because  at  the  very  first  step  he 
must  come  face  to  face  with  the  law  of  love.  And 
as,  if  there  be  a  God,  love  must  be  His  law,  I  do 
not  think  that  we  need  be  at  all  worried  as  to  what 
our  portion  shall  be  in  His  Kingdom,  if  we  obey  that 
same  law  in  this  life — no  matter  what  creed  we  fol- 
low otherwise." 


CHAPTER  XXXVII 

The  days  of  a  beautiful  summer  sped  on;  and  as 
during  the  year  before,  Mr.  Englewood  was  a  fre- 
quent and  ever-welcome  visitor  at  the  Courtright  cot- 
tage. Hattie  Braton  had  arrived  in  due  season,  add- 
ing a  wealth  of  sunshine  to  a  family  already  rich  in 
the  light  and  warmth  that  springs  from  hearts  true 
to  the  best  that  life  offers — faithful  friendships; 
earnest,  loving  sympathy,  and  steadfast,  conscien- 
tious pursuit  of  the  pure,  the  beautiful,  and  the  holy. 

Miss  Braton  had  seemed  in  these  few  months  to 
have  sprung  at  a  leap  from  a  quiet,  earnest  maiden 
into  the  glory  of  fully  developed  womanhood. 
Physically,  she  was  not  an  exceptionally  beautiful 
woman;  though  with  her  regular  features,  graceful 
figure  of  medium  height,  and  clear  complexion  rich 
with  the  fresh  tint  of  perfect  health,  she  was  good 
to  look  at.  Add  to  this  a  pair  of  brown  eyes  that, 
better  than  speech,  told  of  a  pure,  wholesome  mind 
and  heart,  and  we  have  said  all  that  we  need  say  of 
a  very  charming  young  woman. 

It  was  a  warm,  still  evening  in  August  that  Carl 
rested  on  his  oars  when  still  some  distance  from  the 
shore;  and,  looking  around  at  the  beautiful  scene, 
addressed  Miss  Braton,  who  sat  at  the  boat's  stern. 

"What  a  glorious  privilege  it  is  just  to  be  alive  at 
this  season  of  the  year.  It  seems  to  me  one  could 
never  tire  of  such  a  life." 

"Yes,  it  is  like  a  nectar,"  she  responded,  "and  gives 
us  the  renewed  strength  of  soul  and  body  that  we  all 
need  when  duty  calls  us  to  the  tread-mill  again.  One 
only  wishes  that  all  of  one's  friends  could  come  out 


UNCLE  CARL  4*3 

of  the  dingy  cities,  and  enjoy  Mother  Nature's  choice 
gifts." 

"That  is  so,"  said  Carl.  "But  all  that  we  need  in 
this  little  nest  to  complete  our  circle  is  Ralph.  Do 
you  know  whether  he  will  be  able  to  come  over?  I 
haven't  heard  from  him  in  months." 

"I  hardly  think  so,"  said  Hattie.  "He  wrote  to 
Arthur  that  he  has  plunged  vigorously  into  his  work. 
After  his  graduation  Mr.  Coleman  gave  him  a  very 
responsible  position  for  so  young  a  man,  and  he  is 
determined  to  prove  himself  equal  to  his  trust." 

"Do  you  know,"  said  Englewood  rather  hesitat- 
ingly, "that  I  had  expected  you  two  young  people 
would  settle  down  together.  I  know  how  Ralph 
feels,  for  he  told  me  last  fall;  but  from  his  not 
coming  here,  and  from  your  manner  in  speaking  of 
him,  I  am  afraid  that  you  did  not  encourage  his  as- 
pirations, of  which  I  decidedly  approve.  Tell  me, 
little  girl, — if  a  friend  so  old  as  I  may  ask  such  a 
confidence, — can  you  not  find  it  in  your  heart  to  help 
him  to  the  best  of  life?" 

"If  you  mean,  'will  I  marry  him'?"  replied  Hattie 
coldly,  "I  must  say  'no'  emphatically." 

"And  yet,"  urged  Carl,  "he  is  a  most  lovable 
young  man.  Honest,  pure,  upright,  and  steadfast. 
You  surely  could  not  make  a  more  worthy  choice." 

"And  are  you  so  anxious  to  get  me  married  off?" 
said  Hattie  demurely.  "No,  no,  my  dear  friend,  that 
cannot  be.  Ralph  is  a  fine,  a  splendid  fellow,  and  I 
love  him  dearly  as  a  friend  and  comrade;  but  I  do 
not  care  for  him,  I  can  never  care  for  him,  in  any 
other  way." 

"But  are  you  sure?"  persisted  Englewood.  "May 
not  that  friendly  affection  grow  into  something 
stronger  and  dearer?  I  wish  for  the  highest  happi- 


424  UNCLE  CARL 

ness  possible  for  both  of  you.  I  would  not  presume 
to  speak  of  it  otherwise.  Can  you  not — " 

"Mr.  Englewood,"  interrupted  Hattie,  "did  you 
ever  read  the  'Courtship  of  Miles  Standish'?" 

"Why,  yes,"  said  Carl,  "I  have  read  it,  though  I 
am  not  much  of  a  hand  for  poetry." 

"Do  you  remember,  then,"  Hattie  spoke  hesitat- 
ingly— was  it  the  crimson  glow  of  the  western  sky 
that  gave  that  sudden  tint  to  her  face? — "what  the 
maiden — Priscilla — said — to — John  Alden  ?" 

Englewood  looked  down  thoughtfully,  striving  to 
recall  the  forgotten  lines;  and  then,  as  their  sig- 
nificance flashed  upon  him,  he  looked  fixedly  at  the 
quiet  figure  that,  leaning  now  over  the  stern  of  the 
boat,  was  idly  moving  her  hand  about  in  the  warm 
waters.  A  moment  he  sat  thus;  and  then,  without 
a  word,  he  grasped  the  oars  and  pulled  with  long, 
vigorous  strokes  toward  the  shore.  Startled  by  the 
sudden  movement,  Hattie  looked  shyly  around;  but 
Englewood  bent  to  his  work,  looking  steadily  at  the 
bottom  of  the  swiftly  moving  boat,  with  compressed 
lips  and  a  determined  yet  not  unpleasant  expression. 
As  they  neared  the  little  dock,  he  looked  back  of  him 
to  get  his  bearings,  and  then  rowing  more  slowly 
said,  "My  sudden  strenuosity  may  have  surprised  you, 
but  it  just  occurred  to  me  that  there  might  possibly 
be  need  of  certain  actions  that  could  not  safely  take 
place  on  the  water.  Therefore  I  made  haste  to 
land." 

As  they  touched  the  dock,  he  sprang  nimbly  upon 
it,  and  with  the  anchor  rope  in  hand  turned  to  assist 
his  companion.  As  Hattie  accepted  the  proffered 
hand  she  said,  "I  don't  think  that  I  understand  you, 
Mr.  Englewood;  you  were  not  thinking  of  standing 
on  your  head,  were  you,  or  anything  of  that  sort?" 


UNCLE  CARL  425 

"Well,  yes,  something  of  the  sort,"  he  replied; 
"or  at  least  I  may  try  some  form  of  gymnastics. 
You'll  learn  soon  enough."  "Too  soon  for  me  per- 
haps," he  added  in  an  undertone,  as  he  turned  to 
fasten  the  rope  to  the  staple. 

Hattie  had  moved  a  few  steps  farther  out  on  the 
dock,  when  Englewood  straightened  up,  and  looking 
at  her  with  eager  eyes  that  told  more  than  he  real- 
ized, said,  "And  now,  young  lady,  I  have  something 
to  say  to  you.  Are  you  ready?" 

There  was  no  doubting  the  source  of  the  color  now 
in  the  little  woman's  face  as,  after  one  glance  at  him, 
she  started  on  a  swift  walk  toward  the  house,  saying 
as  she  passed  him,  "Why,  Mr.  Englewood,  I — I — 
didn't  mean —  Oh,  what  must  you  think  of  me !" 

But  Carl  walked  quickly  after  her;  and  taking  her 
hand,  placed  it  on  his  arm,  and  holding  it  closely  to 
his  side  led  her,  in  spite  of  her  efforts  to  remove  it, 
toward  a  rustic  seat  that,  screened  by  a  natural 
bower  of  green,  stood  invitingly  near. 

"I'll  soon  let  you  know  what  I  think  of  you,"  said 
he  with  a  whimsical  smile.  "I  haven't  preached 
a  sermon  to  you  in  a  long,  long  time;  but  you  are  in 
for  it  in  earnest,  now." 

He  handed  her  gently  to  the  seat,  and  then  placing 
himself  beside  her,  looked  searchingly  into  her  face. 
Hattie,  poor  girl,  sat  passively,  not  knowing  what 
to  think.  Had  she  indeed  offended  this  dear  friend? 
Had  she  been  too  bold;  or  was  it  that  he  was  too 
blind  to  realize  just  what  her  daring  reference  meant, 
and  he  really  had  some  lecture  for  her?  Perhaps 
she  had  misread  his  eyes,  that  had  so  often  of  late 
given  her  hope  that  this  great,  good  man  thought 
more  dearly  of  her  than  she  deserved.  Perhaps  he — 
but  what  was  the  use  of  wondering,  he  would  tell  in 


426  UNCLE  CARL 

his  own  good  time,  and  she  couldn't  help  herself. 
She  glanced  furtively  at  him  as,  his  eyes  now  looking 
out  across  the  water,  seemed  intent  on  the  evening- 
star  that  was  already  shining  in  the  west.  Drawing 
a  long  breath,  Englewood  at  last  broke  the  silence. 
"Miss  Braton,  I  am  going  to  tell  you  briefly  a 
chapter  of  my  life.  A  joyous  yet  a  very  sad  one. 
Some  years  ago — it  seems  to  me  now  an  eternity — 
I  met,  and  loved  with  all  the  passionate  strength  of 
youth,  a  maiden,  sweet  and  pure  and  holy  as  ever 
lived.  Her  parents  were  earnest  Christian  people, 
her  father  being  the  well-beloved  pastor  of  the  Pres- 
byterian Church.  To  them  I  revealed  my  affection; 
and  though  I  was  then,  as  I  am  now,  a  'back-slider' 
from  their  faith,  a  man  without  belief  in  their  God, 
they  yet  had  that  trust  in  me,  unworthy  as  I  was  and 
am  of  such  a  gift  as  they  made  me,  that  they  con- 
sented to  my  endeavor  to  win  their  only  daughter. 
My  suit  was  successful;  and  I  cannot  even  now  re- 
call those  bright,  joyous  days  without  a  thrill  of  emo- 
tion, as  if  I  had  received  a  holy  benediction  upon  my 
puny  efforts  to  draw  nearer  to  the  perfect  ideal  of 
life.  And  she,  sturdy  little  Christian,  true  to  her 
faith  in  God  and  belief  in  His  Church,  joined  with 
me  in  planning  for  our  future  work  in  the  world. 
Whatever  I  may  have  accomplished  since  then  has 
been  largely  due  to  her  influence  in  those  days 
of  joy.  We  were  to  have  been  married  on  New 
Year's  Day.  But  the  Reaper  came;  and  on  Christ- 
mas Day  we  laid  her,  sleeping,  under  the  shadow  of 
the  mountains  she  loved  so  well.  Ere  she  died,  she 
talked  lovingly  of  our  plans ;  of  my  future ;  of  her 
belief  that  we  should  meet  over  yonder,  where  she 
would  be  waiting  to  receive  me  "at  the  gate."  At 
the  last  long  talk  we  had,  she  expressed  the  wish  that 


UNCLE  CARL  42? 

some  time,  when  the  keen  edge  of  my  sorrow  had 
been  dulled  by  time,  I  should  marry  some  pure  little 
woman  who  would  fill  the  vacant  space  in  my  heart. 
But  the  years  passed  on ;  and,  doing  my  little  best  to 
carry  out  the  plans  made  sacred  to  me  by  her  partici- 
pation, it  never  seemed  to  me  other  than  sacrilege  to 
admit  another  to  my  heart.  Nor  did  I  desire  it  for 
a  long  time.  That  intense,  passionate  love  of  youth 
that  I  felt  for  Irene  comes  but  once  to  man;  and  is 
to  me  now,  and  will  ever  be,  a  holy,  sacred  memory. 
But  after  the  years  of  work,  with  age  creeping  upon 
me,  there  came  into  my  life  another  little  girl,  re- 
minding me  so  much  of  my  lost  Irene,  that,  while  not 
awakening  a  love  so  all-absorbing,  yet  crept  into  my 
heart  and  stood — still  stands — beside  my  sleeping 
dear  one.  The  living  and  the  dead;  equal,  yet  with 
a  difference.  For  the  dead  the  passionate  love  of 
youth;  for  the  living  the  strong,  enduring  affection 
of  middle  age.  Little  girl,  you  see  how  it  is,  do  you 
not?  It  is  not  that  you  are  the  second  choice,  only 
that  you  came  later  into  my  life.  If  you  can  take 
what  I  have  to  offer,  if  you  can  feel  for  a  man  so 
much  older  than  you  that  affection,  without  which 
union  would  be  a  misery  to  you,  then  I  ask  you,  as 
one  whom  I  believe  to  be  in  every  way  worthy  to 
occupy  Irene's  place,  as  one  whom  I  love  dearly,  and 
with  the  whole  strength  of  my  manhood,  to  be  my 
wife." 

As  Carl  ceased,  his  companion  looked  up  at  him 
with  eyes  brimming  with  tears.  A  strange  wooing 
this — to  bring  the  sadness  and  the  joy  together;  each 
intensified  by  the  contrast  with  the  other.  And  yet 
it  was  just  like  him.  Sunshine  always  came  after  rain 
of  his  making.  As  he  had  told  of  his  early  love,  the 
girl  felt  with  and  for  him;  and  with  sinking  heart 


428  UNCLE  CARL 

she  also  felt  how  lonely  her  own  life  must  be;  for 
surely  his  love  for  Irene  could  never  be  replaced  by 
her.  And  yet  the  tears  of  sadness  that  welled  up  as 
he  spoke  of  the  dead,  remained  unshed  until  with  his 
last  words  their  bitterness  was  changed  by  the  won- 
drous alchemy  of  his  affection  into  tears  of  joy,  that 
rolled  slowly  down  her  flushed  cheeks,  as  she  replied : 

"Oh,  Mr.  Englewood,  I  am  all  unworthy  of  such 
affection.  Unworthy  to  take  the  place  of  your  dear 
one  of  the  long  ago.  Yet  I  do  love  you  as  dearly,  as 
strongly  as  you  could  wish.  Your  age  makes  no  dif- 
ference to  me,  for  it  is  not  your  body  that  I  love,  so 
much  as  it  is  your  grand,  noble  heart;  and  that  I — 
I — just  worship!" 

As  Carl's  hand  now  stole  around  the  girl's  waist, 
she  hid  her  face  on  his  shoulder;  and  they  sat  thus 
for  a  few  moments  as  if  to  get  a  firmer  grasp  upon 
the  great  joy  that  had  come  to  each;  and  then  he 
tried  to  raise  her  face,  but  she  resisted. 

"Not  yet,"  she  murmured;  "not  yet;  I  have 
something  more  to  say  first.  I  have  a  secret  to  tell 
you."  And  as  he  ceased  his  effort  at  her  bidding  she 
suddenly  sat  upright,  and  then  leaning  toward  him 
she  nervously  played  with  a  button  of  his  coat  as 
she  said,  "I  have  a  confession  to  make,  dear.  Some- 
thing that  you  should  know ;  though  I  hope,  I  know 
that  you  will  understand  why  I  deceived  you,  and  it 
will  make  no  difference  to  you.  Do  you  know  who 
my  parents  were?" 

"No,  my  dearest,  and  I  don't  care,"  replied  Carl. 
"I  only  know  that  you  are  pure  and  worthy,  and  that 
is  enough  for  me." 

"But  I  must  tell  you,"  said  Hattie,  "for  I  have 
deceived  you  about  my  name.  My  real  name  is  not 
Hattie  Braton;  at  least,  that  is  part  of  my  real 


UNCLE  CARL  4*9 

name,  but  it  isn't  all  of  it.  When  you  found  me  in 
that  wicked  place,  and  asked  me  what  my  name  was, 
I  felt  that  I  had  fallen  so  low  that  I  wouldn't  for 
the  world  have  any  of  my  old  associates  know  of  it; 
and  I  didn't  know  then  what  a  noble  friend  I  had  to 
help  me,  and  how  his  generous  heart  was  going  to 
make  me  proud  to  have  known  him  any  where — 
even  in  such  a  vile  place  as  that.  And  so  I  only  told 
you  my  baptismal  name.  Afterward,  when  I  had 
come  East,  and  all  of  you  dear  people  had  done  so 
much  for  me,  I  didn't  feel  that  I  cared  to  take  my 
old  name  again ;  for  I  was  all  alone  in  the  world,  ex- 
cept for  one  distant  relative  that  I  learned  was  a  very 
bad  man.  And  as  a  girl  I  had  not  formed  any  inti- 
mate friendships,  so  I  just  let  it  go  as  it  was.  Was 
that  very  wrong,  you  dear  old  stickler  for  Truth?" 

"Not  very,  little  girl,"  said  Carl.  "I  understand 
your  feeling,  I  think,  and  don't  blame  you  in  the 
least.  So  if  you  have  gotten  through  with  your 
blood-curdling  confession,  just  turn  your  dear  face 
up  this  way." 

"What!"  exclaimed  Hattie;  "don't  you  even  want 
to  know  my  real  name?" 

"I  don't  care  what  your  name  is,"  said  Carl;  "I 
don't  love  your  name,  I  love  you ;  but  if  I  must  hear 
it  first,  out  with  it,  and  hurry  up." 

"My  name  then,"  said  the  girl,  as  Englewood 
gathered  her  into  a  close  embrace,  "is  Hattie  Braton 
Cramer." 


A     000  085  335     8 


